Five Pointed Star
by lockheedelektra
Summary: Life's not easy. Deporting youkai, saving the world, and still finding time to freak out over sexy coworkers. Who also happen to be youkai. Nope, life's not easy for a priestess at all. AU, KK, AM, SM, SouOC, EniOC
1. Introduction

So, I've finally got a story up. Okay, so most of you have no clue who I am, and haven't been holding your breath, butfor those of you who do remember me, I thank you. :cricket:cricket:COUGH: Well, then... I give you the first chapter of Five Pointed Star.

-LE

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"You should believe in the devil. He believes in you."

-John Constantine, _Constantine_

_Oh, dammit. All I wanted was some shumai, why couldn't they leave me alone long enough to get some shumai…?_

Kamiya Kaoru strode down the street, glancing nervously around her person. Her high ponytail bobbed up and down in a cascade of black as she increased her speed while still trying to seem calm and collected. A cellophane bag was clutched in her left hand, containing three boxes of frozen shumai. She was dressed in a long black leather coat and fingerless black gloves. Underneath she had a navy t-shirt that hugged her form and a pair of denim jeans.

Anyone looking upon the situation would have figured something normal was going on: a girl in Tokyo is walking fast, glancing around—perhaps some unsavory men are following her? Is she late to some affair and is searching for the restaurant? Perhaps she agreed to meet a friend somewhere? All of these situations, even if some were unpleasant, would fit perfectly if only it was any other girl's life.

But with Kamiya Kaoru, nothing was ever normal. She had not agreed to meet a friend, she was not late to anything, and she would gladly prefer unsavory men to follow her rather than what _was_ tailing her at the moment.

"Mizu no Kami-sama, lend me strength…" Kaoru muttered, slipping her right hand into her pocket and closing her hand around her special-made omamori, tracing her thumb over the intricate carvings in the stone.

The chilly night air took on a new degree of cold—a bone-chilling, breath-rattling cold that cut down to the center of your body. It suddenly seemed much darker to Kaoru, despite the neon lights and street lamps.

_Mizu no Kami-sama, great goddess of the waters, your servant pleads with you to banish this unholy creature of darkness—_

A shadow flickered at the edge of Kaoru's vision.

Her breath caught and she quickly dodged into an alley, dropping the shumai on the ground and slipping the omamori around her neck; her right hand flew to her trusty bokken at her left side.

Why did she pray, anyway? Praying never worked. She was on her own when _they_ came to call. Multiple shadows danced along the walls of the alley before converging to form a humanoid shape in front of Kaoru.

It seemed to be a man, with ash-gray skin and glowing red eyes. His sparse black hair was greasy and barely covered his head, and his fingernails were grimy and long. The man's posture was terrible, so he had to crane up his neck to look Kaoru in the eye; his upper canine teeth hung over his bottom lip, apparently whether he wanted them to or not.

Kaoru glared down the man, sapphire orbs with indigo specks changing to a cerulean color, spikes of ice ringing her pupil. "Be gone, Kage Youkai. I have no business with you."

The Shadow Demon let out a sound that sounded like a laugh and a wheeze at the same time. "You know that's a lie, Mizu no Miko. What demon doesn't aspire to defeat one of the Go Miko no Soshi?"

Kaoru set her jaw and drew her bokken, setting her face in what she hoped was an intimidating expression. "I'll be damned before I let my powers fall to a youkai as weak as yourself."

The girl's words seemed to have struck home, as the Kage Youkai snarled and curled his lips back. "You'll regret those wor—"

He was cut off as Kaoru quickly raised her free hand and sent a stream of water into his mouth and down his lungs. While the demon gasped for breath, Kaoru darted forward and pierced his heart with her bokken, closing her eyes against the dust and ash that sprayed from the wound. The demon spasmed violently, his eyes rolling back in his head, until he flew apart into hundreds of small shadows with a heart-rending scream.

The unnatural cold faded back into a Tokyo winter, and once more the glowing neon signs took over the darkness. Kaoru felt the demonic aura fade away and opened her eyes, which were drifting back to their sapphire-and-indigo mode. She let out a breath and sheathed her bokken, leaving the omamori around her neck. Another youkai down…

It was almost abnormal, how used to these attacks she was. They had been becoming more frequent lately, suggesting that the scales of power were about to tip. Her and her four friends had to work twice as hard to keep the balance intact. Sometimes Kaoru worried that it would become too much, and they would be swallowed up by the tide of darkness that threatened to engulf the world.

As you may have guessed, Kaoru and her friends were not ordinary girls. They were the Go Miko no Soshi; five priestesses who controlled the elements: water, earth, fire, wind, and spirit. They worked together to make sure that youkai didn't cause trouble among humans by banishing them back to their realm.

You see, there are three realms; the human world, the demon's world, and the world of the afterlife. There are strong wards on the gates to the world of the afterlife, so youkai couldn't enter there. Sometimes, though, they popped up in the human world, and that's where Kaoru and her friends came in and sent them back to where they came. Most of the time the youkai came for the priestesses themselves; it was a standing law that should a demon defeat a Go Miko no Soshi, they would gain their powers and become almost impossible to beat. It was a dangerous job, deporting youkai; Kaoru had heard of plenty of warriors who died facing demons of incredible strength. The five of them were always anticipating a youkai's next move, trying to pinpoint where the next would appear.

But it gave a lot of anxiety, so Kaoru found it better to just take things as they came, and focus on getting the shumai back to her house.

Kaoru swept up the bag as she walked past it, continuing in her spirited pace to the apartment building the five of them lived in. She fumbled with her keys for a brief second, then went through the first door and up the stairs to the girl's apartment. In truth, all five girls lived in one apartment. It was a close fit, but that's Tokyo for you; besides, the girls were closer than sisters, and didn't mind all that much.

"I've got shumai!" Kaoru sang out, setting down the bag on the counter and waiting a total of three seconds before the four other girls zoomed up to the kitchen.

"Yosha! We finally have some _food_!" Misao said, her emerald eyes clenched shut in ecstasy as she bounced up and down, her long black braid following her. As usual, she wasn't short on energy.

"Don't even think about cooking, Kaoru-chan! I'll do it." Megumi stated, flipping her black hair over her shoulder and taking the wok out of a cabinet. Her cinnamon eyes glanced over at Kaoru, laughing a little. Kaoru huffed but knew she should let Megumi cook; the blue-eyed girl would probably burn their dinner.

"Dammit, I'm hungry…" Yuuki's stomach growled loudly as she cursed; that girl could probably eat a whole ox if she was hungry enough. Her violet orbs eyed the shumai hungrily and she tucked her shoulder-length black hair behind her ear.

"Thank you kami-sama!" Yuuki's sister, Junsei, shouted, dropping to her knees and bowing to no one in particular. Her gray eyes had a look of true gratitude as she turned to Kaoru, clasping her hands in front of her. A few stray pieces of her ebony hair left out of her low ponytail hung around her face as she thanked Kaoru before standing up once more.

Kaoru sweatdropped as three of the girls pounced on the shumai, viciously trying to open the boxes in order to get at the tasty dumplings inside. Misao, Yuuki, and Junsei each tore open a box, piling the shumai into the biggest wok ever created that was sitting on the stove. Megumi had splashed some oil onto the pan, and she snapped her fingers to start a small flame underneath the wok and started frying them up. Soon the glorious smell of cooking shumai filled the apartment; the girls inhaled the aroma eagerly, as if that could eat that, too.

"Wait…" Junsei began. "Did anyone lock up the—"

The girls paled as they heard the pitter-patter of twenty animal feet coming towards the kitchen. Two seconds later, a tanuki, a weasel, a fox, a cat, and a rabbit came bursting into the kitchen. Each girl caught her respective shikigami before they could get to the shumai and tried to calm them down and get them back into their cages (except for Yuuki's cat, Okami, who sat on her shoulder).

Kaoru managed to herd her tanuki, Sanzoku, back into its kennel, where it curled up and looked at her with mournful eyes. The blue-eyed girl couldn't stay mad at her familiar and promised to sneak it some shumai later.

Megumi had somehow trained her fox, Kisai, to perfection; with two high-pitched whistles it trotted back to its kitsune-sized futon to the left of Sanzoku and plopped down lazily.

Misao had slung her weasel, Haiyuu, around her shoulders, and she let it run down her arm and back into its blanket-layered basket on the other side of Kaoru's tanuki. It lay on its stomach, looking like a living, breathing, zigzag.

Junsei had cuddled her bunny, Nouka, to her chest and eased it back into its little cage. The gray ball o' fluff looked up at her innocently, its nose twitching, before settling back down its pine-shaving bed.

Okami meowed indignantly atop Yuuki's shoulder as her mistress held her back from pouncing upon the shumai. "No! No shumai fer Okami! Only cat food, y'hear?" Yuuki said, holding her cat in front of her face and speaking in her native Kansai dialect. Okami simply stared at Yuuki, looking very miffed that she was hanging by her armpits. "Fine, fine. There ya go."

Yuuki set Okami down, and the cat stalked off to her bundle of cloth that served as a bed. It sat up straight, swishing its tail and trying to retain its dignity. _Honestly. A little shumai never hurt a cat! _

'_If I give ya one, then you'll want the whole damned plate. And then you'll be FAT. Do you want to be fat?'_

_Heavens, NO! _

Yuuki rolled her eyes. Sometimes having a telepathic link with your shikigami came in handy. Other times it was just a pain in the ass. She made it to the dining room and sat down at the pentagonal table with the rest of her friends. The shumai sat in the middle, a golden brown color, looking positively delectable in all their fried glory. The girls took each other's hands and closed their eyes.

"Whose turn for grace?" Misao asked.

Kaoru cleared her throat to signify it was her and she shifted in her seat. "Kami-sama, thank you for letting me find the 1500 yen necessary to purchase this wonderful shumai we are about to enjoy. Mizu no Kami-sama, thank you for giving me courage to defeat the Kage Youkai that attacked me while walking home. Most of all, thank you for letting me enjoy this with shumai with my friends. Wouldn't know what to do without them."

All five girls grinned for a total of seven seconds before Misao yelled, "What are we waitin' for? ITADAKIMASU!"

And that is how the Go Miko no Soshi set the world record for time taken to eat a plate of shumai.

Mizu no Kami: Supposedly the 'all-powerful' water deity who brought a good deal of things into creation

Omamori: a pendant, usually carved of stone, that has lucky and protective properties.

Kage Youkai: shadow demon

Go Miko no Soshi: Five Priestesses of the Elements (lame, I know)

Okami: Emperor

Sanzoku: Bandit

Kisai: Wizard, magician

Haiyuu: Entertainer, performer

Nouka: Farmer

Itadakimasu: In Japanese culture, people usually say, 'itadakimasu' before they eat. It roughly translates to, 'thanks for the food'.

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So, how'd you like it? Boring? Fantastical? I reward reviewers with pocky!


	2. The Face of Buddha: Kaoru

... Yeah... not much to say... Here's chapter two!

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"Even a true oni may wear the face of Buddha."

-Japanese proverb

May 14, 2007, morning—Kaoru

Ah, mornings. When done right, they can be just gorgeous; a rosy sunrise, dew sparkling on the grass, maybe even a few birds chirping merrily as they start waking up.

Then again, they can also start with the sound of a jackhammer pounding into your brain.

Welcome to my life in modern Tokyo.

The sharp sound cut through my skull and jolted me awake and into a sitting position. Both hands had a firm grip on my bokken, but they relaxed when I realized it was just those freaking construction workers again.

Looking onto the floor from my perch on our couch, I saw Misao snuggled up with her weasel. Haiyuu had his head resting on our genki girl's shoulder, the lower half of his light brown body coiled around her waist. A little ray of sun was coming through the patio's glass door, giving Misao's hair a greenish tint.

You see, all five of us live in one apartment with our familiars. The apartment's big by Tokyo standards, but at the same time, it's _five freakin' people_. Misao and I sleep out in the living room, while Junsei, Yuuki, and Megumi are in the bedroom. If it was just us five, it wouldn't be so bad, but there's the matter of our shikigami, too.

I looked over at the wall where a cage, basket, kitsune-sized futon, kennel, and pile o' rags sat. Only Kisai and Sanzoku were still in their beds; the kitsune was still sound asleep, twitching every once in a while like he was chasing a squirrel. Sanzoku, however, was wide awake, looking dolefully at me with big tanuki eyes.

Smiling at him, I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. He did usually have to go to the bathroom in the morning.

"Wanna go to Ueno park, boy?"

Instantly his ears perked up and he stood, now gazing hopefully at me. If I looked at him right, it almost seemed like his tanuki mouth had shifted into a grin.

Pushing the blanket back, I stepped over Misao so as not to wake the sleeping kunoichi. I thought that Haiyuu had cracked open an eye, but he closed it and went back to sleeping, obviously getting that I didn't want to wake anyone.

_Hurry, Kaoru! I have to goooooo! _

I rolled my eyes and hopped over Misao, quickly tiptoeing to Sanzoku's kennel and unlatching it.

'_Don't freak out now!'_ I told him, and he stayed by my shins, blinking up at me while I grabbed my trenchcoat off the coat hook. A leash isn't really necessary for Sanzoku: he's pretty well trained, and if he wanders off I can always call him back.

Hmm… but I feel like I'm missing something… 

I looked around the apartment and glimpsed my bokken, freshly polished to a mahogany sheen, on the coffee table. Before giving it a second thought I snatched it up and attached it to my belt. I'd learned through experience that youkai could attack at _any _time, day or night, and it was better safe than sorry.

Sometimes I really wish I didn't have to carry my bokken anywhere; but the truth was that as soon as you stepped out of our apartment, you became a living target for any demon who might want to attack. The only reason they didn't get in was because Yuuki and Junsei slapped ofuda on the door frame that warded the apartment. Yep, outside was a scary place.

I crouched down and rubbed the top of Sanzoku's head.

'_You'll protect me, won't you?'_

_Damn straight. Can we go outside now? _

I giggled and slipped on my trenchcoat, feeling the slight weight of the omamori in my left pocket as I opened the door. Sanzoku followed at my left side, trotting along a little faster than I was walking.

_Wow, he really must have to go._

Bringing my speed up to a light jog, Sanzoku took the challenge.

And so began the race to Ueno park.

We sped down the stairs (not minding the risk of breaking our necks), out the door, and down the street at top speed. I had to weave through the masses of people who were already out on the streets and walking to work. Sanzoku barked so people wouldn't step on him; he got a bit more than that when everyone parted so the tanuki could charge down the sidewalk.

I followed his path, slowly gaining on him; I was the second fastest in our quintet of priestesses; Yuuki was in first place, but she is the Kaze no Miko.

The park was soon in view, a lonely patch of green sticking out against a concrete jungle. I put on a burst of speed and was neck-and-neck with Sanzoku. Closing my eyes, I willed my limbs to go faster just as we passed through the gates.

_Kaoru, look— _

CRASH.

What the hell? I don't remember there being a second wall!

"Ow…" I rubbed the lump on the back of my head, eyes still closed. I had landed flat on my tush and was not in the most advantageous of positions if someone were to attack me.

"Oh, I'm sorry, de gozaru! Here, let me help you up."

De gozaru? Who talks like that anymore?

Great. I hadn't run into a wall, I'd run into a guy. A petite guy by the sound of it. Misao would never let me live it down if I told her a short man knocked me to the ground.

I opened my eyes at the calming alto and saw a hand in front of me. My eyes followed the hand up a strong, lithe arm, past a slim shoulder, along a perfectly defined jaw line, and right to the most gorgeous face on a man I had ever seen.

The first thing I noticed was the hair. Let me tell you, that hair—that fantastic, silky, flaming-red hair in a low ponytail reaching to the small of his back—was wasted on a man. Bangs covered his forehead and brushed just above his sparkling, plum-colored eyes that would make any girl's heart stop. His lips—such kissable lips they were—were quirked up in a sincere smile. In fact, the only thing that interrupted his otherwise heavenly features was a cross-shaped scar on his left cheek. But somehow that only added to his looks, giving him an air of mystery.

It finally hit me that he was offering to help me up, and I took his hand—slightly rough, sword-calloused like mine—and stood up, dusting myself off.

Like I'd predicted, he was kind of short, but I'm no giant myself, so I came to about the middle of his head. His form was compactly built; slim, yet muscular, like he was made out of steel wiring. He had a gray tank top on and black running sweats; just another jock out for a run, right? Something about him, though, said, "Don't worry! I am nonthreatening and in fact a perfect gentleman, de gozaru yo."

"Gomen nasai!" He said in that steady alto that would calm a raging lion into submission, scratching the back of his head. "I guess I wasn't looking where I was going, de gozaru."

The ability to speak returned to me and I stammered, feeling my cheeks heat up as the blood rushed to them. "Oh, n-no! I was the one who crashed into you! I-It's not your fault at all!"

He chuckled a little, and gods, I swear my heart stopped. "You are kind-hearted, de gozaru. That is rare nowadays, de gozaru yo."

"Uh… thank you?" I said, a little befuddled. That was an… interesting statement, to say the least, but it was a nice compliment. He chuckled again, his head bowed slightly so his bangs shadowed his eyes from view. When he reopened his eyes, I could see pools of amber peeking out from behind the fiery curtain of hair.

But then he blinked and raised his head, and those captivating eyes were back to their docile violet hues.

"My name's Himura Kenshin, de gozaru. What's yours?"

"Kamiya Kaoru. It's… it's nice to meet you."

I bowed politely and held out my hand for a shake, but apparently he had other plans; Kenshin lowered his lips to my hand and gave it a gentle kiss.

Suddenly a ripple of heat spread from where his lips had touched my flesh, and I felt another blush rise to my cheeks. I felt a strange pulse in the pit of my stomach when he looked up at me through his bangs; his eyes were blazing like the sun through strands of fire. Molten amber, liquid nitrogen… whatever you wanna call it, it was burning right through me.

Kenshin's lips hovered over my hand, hot breath ghosting across my skin. It seemed like a kiss on the hand was the most magnificent thing to him, like it could give him an immeasurable amount of pleasure. He pressed his lips to my hand again, and I could feel his breath, ragged against my skin.

_**K-Kaoru**… _

I blinked, sure I had heard wrong. There was no way Kenshin could have done that… to make a telepathic link you have to have some sort of supernatural power…

I was probably just imagining things.

Kenshin seemed to remember himself and straightened, staring at me with half-lidded eyes. Amber flecks were swimming in his violet pools as his lips twitched into a smirk.

"I guess… I'll see you around, Kaoru-dono."

It seemed like I was frozen to the spot as he walked past me calmly; it wasn't until he hit the sidewalk across the street that I broke free from his spell.

"Hey, Ken—"

I spun around to try to get a last glimpse of him, but the red-haired god made flesh was gone, gone away, vanished into the concrete jungle.

_Whoo, baby! Sure am glad I got that out of my system! _

My eye twitched as Sanzoku reappeared at my side, popping my romantic bubble of fantasy. Damn tanuki. Even if he is my shikigami, sometimes I really want to smack him on the head.

_Let's go home, Sanzoku. _

Can't think about the sexy red-head. Must not think about the sexy red-head. Will not think about sexy red-head.

"Oh my kami-sama, I met the _hottest guy _just now!"

I'm thinking about the sexy red-head.

Misao instantly bounded up to me and started with a barrage of questions her emerald eyes all lit up with curiosity and mischief.

"Did you say anything? How did you meet? Overall rating from one to ten? What's he look like?"

I have seen many strong men sent into a fit of confusion when asked rapid-fire questions from Misao, but all of us are pretty much used to Misao's motormouth (patent pending); so it's easy for us to answer her queries.

"We only exchanged names, his was Kenshin; we met—" I stopped myself before I revealed anything embarrassing "—I'll tell you later how we met; and the rating is _eleven_."

"Description!" Megumi said as she leaned against the door frame of the bedroom, an expectant smirk on her face.

I cleared my throat while I set my trenchcoat on the coathook, preparing to describe to them all the specimen of a man that was Kenshin. But before I could start, Yuuki spoke up from her place leaning against the counter in the kitchen.

"You're not gonna get Shakespearian on us, are you?"

I simply grinned.

"His hair was like a cascade of silken fire; though it could not match the raging flame sparked within me by his prescience—"

"Oh good god…"

"His eyes were kind, pure pools of deepest violet that sparkled with sincerity as he told me his name: Himura Kenshin…"

Am I good or what? Shakespeare can kiss my ass!

"I offered my hand for a friendly shake, but he swiftly pressed his lips to my flesh in a gentle kiss. As he looked up at me, I saw his eyes were molten amber, blazing with passion mortals cannot comprehend—"

"Okay, okay, we get it!"

I sniggered at Misao's impatience with my eloquent ramblings, and Yuuki, sick of boy talk already, sat next to her twin sister on the couch and started watching T.V.

Junsei and Yuuki are twins, but only fraternal; it's why their eye colors are different. Their body types are different, too—Yuuki has broad shoulders and a strong body with toned muscles—she's about 37-29-36; Junsei is delicate and feminine, and bruises the easiest out of the five of us; she's 30-22-30. Misao is a little like Junsei and Yuuki combined; she's petite and slender, but compactly built and athletic, around 28-22-27. Megumi is probably the most 'womanly' out of all of us at 39-27-39: a knockout body and no-nonsense attitude—you betta show her some R-E-S-P-E-C-T, yes _ma'am_! I'm pear-shaped; 36-26-40 and proud of it—you would be too, if you had the best ass in the building!

Not that I'm blowing my own horn, or anything. We have to know one another's measurements because we decided long ago that we would do our clothes shopping for anyone but ourselves; a lot of times the others know me better than I do, and I trust their opinion on what would look good on me.

For instance, Junsei had kindly picked out what Megumi was wearing right now: a cocoa silk nightgown that went to just above her knees with thin straps. It brushed against her legs soundlessly as she stepped around Misao and placed her hands on my shoulders and gazed into my eyes, looking dead serious.

"Now, the million-dollar-question… was he checkin' out the menu?"

Sanzoku had long since gotten fed up with the conversation and was snoozing away in his kennel. What can I say? Male tanuki aren't exactly experts on love advice.

"Well, I'm not quite sure, but…" I began, removing Megumi's hands from my shoulders. "I'm pretty sure he wanted to order these double cheeseburgers…" I slowly did a 360 degree spin, rolling my hips in a circle. Misao catcalled and Megumi clapped her hands. Junsei glanced at us, positively clueless, and Yuuki snorted, but I could tell she was amused when she smiled at me.

Of course, I'm pretty sure Kenshin never even saw the back half of me, but from his reaction to kissing my hand, my 'double cheeseburgers' would have had the red-haired god drooling.

"Speaking of double cheeseburgers, is anyone else really hungry?" Junsei asked, leaning on the arm of the couch. Yuuki popped off the couch and clenched her fist; she might be hesitant to talk about guys, but damn, she _loved_ food.

"Now we're talkin'! Who wants ta hit the Mos Burger!"

"Ooh, yeah, I'm starving!" Misao said, clutching her small stomach as it gave a loud growl. We all agreed that we were in desperate need of some breakfast, so we changed out of our pajamas and headed out of the apartment.

In a couple minutes we were at the Mos Burger; I quickly swept my eyes over the people in the vicinity and saw an all-too-familiar head of long red hair by the cash register. Kenshin turned around as the door 'ding'-ed, and I felt those gorgeous plum-colored eyes sucking me in again.

"Oh, hello Kaoru-dono. I didn't expect to see you again so soon, de gozaru. Are these your friends?"

He released me from his spell long enough so I could give an answer.

"H-Hai! Himura-san, this is Hatake Junsei and Hatake Yuuki, Makimachi Misao, and—"

"I'm Takani Megumi." I should have known better than to try and introduce Megumi myself. She's just like that; it's one of her, shall we say, 'quirks'. "Will you introduce us to your friend there?"

Only then did I notice the tall guy standing next to Kenshin. He had spiky bird-head brown hair and chocolate eyes—funny how I keep comparing guys' eyes to food—that screamed, 'I am a tough guy so kindly screw off'. He looked tough, too; powerful and lanky, muscles only slightly more defined than Kenshin's. He was wearing blue jeans with decimated knees and a black t-shirt that showed off strong arms; a red bandanna was tied around his forehead. Kenshin only came up to about his shoulder—heh, guess good things do come in small packages… but then what does that make me? Am I really just a midget but no one bothered to tell me?

No, I was the average height for a Japanese woman. This guy must just be really, really, _really _friggin' tall.

"Oh, yes, this is Sagara Sanosuke. He's a long-time friend and… business partner."

Was it just me, or did Kenshin's eyes flash amber as he looked up at Sanosuke? Why did he forget the 'de gozaru'? The tall man smirked back at Kenshin before giving the most miniscule bow I'd ever seen; when he came back up (all five inches) he popped a toothpick in his mouth. "Swell to meet you, ladies."

"Sir, are you going to order?" The woman at the register asked Kenshin. My red-haired god turned around fully and I saw the proof that there was no way this man was mortal. I thanked the gods his heavenly ass—no, I am _not_ exaggerating—was not denim-clad; there would be no way I could control my hands.

"I'd like the double cheeseburger, de gozaru."

Yuuki clamped her hand over Misao's mouth before the Chi no Miko's laughter got too loud. The Kaze no Miko might not have much experience with guys, but she was a master at damage control. A blush crept up my cheeks; Kenshin's order was innocent enough, but it was a little embarrassing all the same.

"And you, sir?"

"Mos chicken."

After the five of us ordered we got a booth—conveniently located behind Kenshin and the spiky-haired Sano. I was currently facing the back of a head of red hair… at least, I would be if Megumi wasn't sitting across from me.

"Kaoru, could you be a dear and get me some barbeque sauce?" She said. I raised an eyebrow at the 'be a dear', but she winked at me and nodded her head towards Kenshin, who was squeezing some ketchup onto his cheeseburger.

I mouthed an, 'oh' and nodded; lo and behold, as soon as I passed Kenshin's table I heard an, 'Oro!' and the telltale sound of ketchup squirting out of the bottle.

Swiveling my head around, I saw Kenshin covering his nose with his hand, a small trickle of blood leaking from one nostril. A large puddle of ketchup was dripping off his cheeseburger. I turned back around and silently thanked Megumi. The Hi no Miko did know a hell of a lot more about flirting than I did…

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Mos Burger: the Japanese equivalent to McDonald's, though they offer a wider variety of foods, like hot dogs, nachos, and barbequed chicken.

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Did anyone get the ketchup-squirting-out thing? It was inspired by Seinfeld...

REVIEW. Pocky for all those who review.


	3. The Face of Buddha: Megumi

Hi-dee-ho!

The number of SM stories on here is depressing...I looked and looked, but only a few were to be found. Hence, if I make poor Sano and Megumi terribly OOC, tell me. I beg of you.

-LE

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May 14, 2007, night—Megumi

I am the flirting queen. I am the flirting empress. There will never be any woman as proficient or as knowledgeable about flirting as I am. So it only makes sense that I help out my less-experienced friends, ne? Thanks to my assistance this morning, Kaoru was able to get a very embarrassed Kenshin's phone number. It really was rewarding to see her beam as Kenshin handed over the slip of paper while he wiped blood from his nose. She was still in an elated haze when I left for work at 8:00.

Now, don't judge me, but I work as a waitress in a sports bar. I don't like it one bit; it's only a temporary job until I can find a suitable career, preferably something in the medical field. When you're a doctor, greasy men don't try to grab your ass, you see.

Most women would be too embarrassed or shy to actually take action when that happens. Kaoru would probably blush and stammer at them, Misao would yowl about showing more respect and give them death-threats, and Junsei would hurry along and keep her back to the wall every time she approached them. Yuuki would take a less discreet approach and punch them out right then and there.

As for me, I give them dirty dishes, I 'accidentally' spill drinks on them, and I lock them in the bathroom. Bitchy? Yes, indeed; but I do not tolerate G.W.I.—Groping Without Invitation.

It was 8:30 when I got to the lone guy sitting by himself in a booth. His face was obscured by the big fold-out menu, but I could see lean, strong arms, covered by a plain black t-shirt. Smoothing out my waitress's skirt, I pulled out my notebook and pen and plastered on my best 'friendly as a baby chick' smile.

"Hello sir, would you like something to drink?"

"About damn time, I could eat a horse."

He folded up the menu and slapped it down in one quick motion that I could barely follow. My eyes shifted from the menu, now lying on the table, to the man's face. I held back a miniscule gasp of surprise when I recognized him as Kenshin's friend from this morning.

I don't know about the rest of you, ladies, but when I want a man, I want a _man_! Kenshin was attractive, granted, but this one, this Sanosuke, was much more of my type: tall, dark, handsome, and not wearing a ponytail. He seemed… rougher than the redhead, abandoning delicately sculpted features for a more angular profile. Even though Sano's mahogany hair did look rather… untamed… it was thick and didn't have any buildup of hair gel. But the best part of all had to be the eyes: deep pools of dark chocolate, almost blending in with his pupils to create a bottomless vortex I could fall headfirst into.

"Oh… Takani Megumi, ne?"

I made a note to kick myself later for staring at him and came back to the real world, reattaching my smile effortlessly. He had such a deep voice, with this little drawl to it…

_You are a **professional**, Megumi! Start acting like one!_

"Hai. You're Sagara Sanosuke, are you not?"

Sanosuke gave a cocky little smirk as his answer and leaned back in his seat, pulling out a toothpick from his pocket. "Yep. Can I get a beer or something?"

"Sure. I'll be back right away."

I made a great effort to be calm and dignified as I went behind our bar (the bartender wasn't even there yet, lazy bum) and let the golden liquid fall into a waiting glass. "You're sure here early." I said, attempting to make conversation. "Normally no one comes here until at least 10:00."

His smirk was audible. "I've had a shitty day. I fully intend on being drunk out of my mind by ten. Y'see…"

He leaned back in the booth as I set the glass down and pulled up a chair from the closest table. I rested my elbows on my thighs and my chin in my hand, preparing myself as Sano began to recount the events of the day.

"First, I had to go to that Mos Burger with Kenshin, which wasn't so bad, but after _that _whole thing, it was all 'Kaoru-dono' this an' 'Kaoru-dono' that… Both boring and annoying at the same time. Then I went to go spar with the other guys—by some trick of fate they keep winning—and I know they were mocking me, even the Icicle, though he didn't say anything… That damn Soujiro, too, he just keeps smiling at me an' sayin', 'Gomen nasai, Sagara-san. Did I go too hard that time?' Gee, I wonder! My ass was halfway through the wall!"

I chuckled behind my hand at that but Sanosuke narrowed his eyes and me and I stopped.

"After that, it was Enishi's turn to make dinner—which he burnt fabulously, by the way—so I was forced to cook for all five of us, and then Aoshi says it's a little bland, so I suggested that I could knock out some of his teeth and see if it tastes better. Arrogant bastards just raised their eyebrows at me and so I got outta there."

Sanosuke stretched his arms behind the back off the booth and muscles rippled underneath slightly tanned skin—I don't blush at things like these anymore (years of practice)—and he took a toothpick from his pocket. "But you don't have to sit here and listen to me bitch. That is, unless you've got nothing better to do."

"I could take your order."

"Sounds good." Sano picked up the menu again and his brown eyes flicked over the paper. Then, after a few seconds:

"I have no clue what half this stuff is."

People have told me that fox ears appear on my head whenever I chuckle at someone's expense. Without doubt they were perched atop there now as I sniggered again. Mind you, I'm not bitchy because I'm just another heartless beauty with an ugly soul or some crap like that. It's a front—you could say a test. If someone can see through the surface bitch to the real me, I consider them a friend.

"Very well, Sagara-san. I'll just make you up something."

See? I'm not so bad.

I pushed open the steel door to the kitchen and stared at the still-closed cabinets, trying to think of what Sano would like. He looked like a meat-n'-potatoes kind of guy, so I opted for monja-yaki. In a few minutes the meat was frying away in the pan over a hot flame; I had conjured it up myself since the stove wasn't working. At around 9:00 I made it over to Sanosuke, holding the plate with one hand while the other rested on my hip.

His eyes lit up when he saw the plate and they flickered with something indistinguishable when they traveled over me. It was like I was the special of the day—buy a plate of monja-yaki with a waitress for dessert.

You may tell yourself, oh come on, she cannot be that attractive… but the answer is yes, yes I am. Part of it's natural, but I work for my figure, too—fighting demons is not exactly flubber-friendly. And so I approached him as a goddess in low-riding jeans and a form-hugging black Yomiuri Giants t-shirt, the official uniform of the bar.

I smiled my vixen smile as I set down the plate of monja-yaki. When I reached across the table for Sano's glass (he'd already emptied it), he asked me a question.

"That the uniform, Megumi-san?"

I turned the vixen smile on him and he visibly tensed.

Poor fool. He's fallen into my trap already.

"Well… yes, it is. But it's also just fun to wear." I said as I walked around the bar once more—I was seriously considering whacking Yoshitoki upside the head, when he got here, for being late. Again I filled up the glass and brought it over to Sanosuke; this time I slid into the booth across from him.

"So…" I began. "You mentioned that you live with other men?"

This is always a tough issue to figure out; Sano could just be roommates, and nothing more, with Kenshin and the other guys, or he could be shoving his tongue down their collective throats every chance he got.

Always check, ladies. There is nothing more embarrassing than finding out you've been hitting on a gay man.

"Yeah. We… work in similar fields."

Sano took a swig of beer, but his eyes remained locked on mine, searching for a reaction. I didn't break my neutral expression. It was there again, that strange sense that something was going on right under my nose. It had happened first in the Mos Burger, when Kenshin said Sanosuke was his business partner. There was something more to them, but I almost didn't want to know what it was.

Sanosuke closed his eyes and put down his beer, having successfully quaffed it in all of five seconds. I vaguely heard other patrons beginning to spill into the bar as he continued.

"I mean, we've got part-time jobs, too… I think Soujiro's a stock boy in a grocery store…"

"And you?" I asked, resting an elbow on the table and propping my head up on my wrist.

Sanosuke chewed on his monja-yaki to stall for time, then swallowed audibly.

"I got fired last night. S'no big deal."

He really didn't look like he cared; Sano appeared to be more concerned with eyeing my monja-yaki like a lion does a dead gazelle.

I sighed. "Dig in, tori-atama. I don't mind."

Vegetables and meat flew like mad as my carefully-made monja-yaki came to a gruesome end. I was surprised any of it actually made it into Sanosuke's mouth, but the plate was almost completely clean when he finished.

I picked off a stray piece of green pepper from my shirt and held it in front of my face, preparing to chop it in half with my scarlet fingernails. In a flash, strong fingers pried the pepper from my hands and sent it sailing into Sano's mouth.

"Domo." He said, grinning at me. "That's the best monja-yaki I've had in years."

"Really? In that case… You'd tip me 25?"

"Oi, oi, I got fired! Go easy on me!"

Oh, so _now_ he decides to play the, 'pity me—I've so much to overcome' card. Such a man.

I huffed and crossed my arms, looking away from him.

"Fine, then." I said. "I suppose you can just get your own beer."

I stood up from the booth and walked away from a sputtering Sanosuke to serve the other customers. I warned every waitress that I passed that the bird-head at booth number five was drunk out of his mind and not to give him any more beer.

All right… I can be a real bitch sometimes.

At 11:00, I glanced over to booth five and saw Sano still sitting there, arms crossed and glaring fiercely at the unoccupied side of the booth.

"So… ready to concede?" I said, sliding in front of him again.

"I don't think so… Megitsune."

I twitched visibly. Sano was showing all his teeth in an evil grin—from here it even looked like he had fangs.

"What did you call me?"

I will get you, rooster head. Mark my words.

"Oh, a little sensitive, are we, fox woman? And here I was about to tell you how I could find the decency in my heart to tip you 20."

Sanosuke checked his nails absently as he said this, and I was forcibly reminded of someone… me. So, he wants to play the bargaining game? Let's see how long he can hold out against the Bitch Queen of Tokyo.

"Only twenty? The deal was 25."

"I say twenty."

"Thirty percent."

"Twenty-two percent."

"Twenty-seven."

"Twenty-five percent."

"Deal!" I said, chuckling behind my hand as my fox ears flipped up in triumph. Sano blinked once, twice, thrice before realizing he'd been duped.

"Oi! You—"

I wrapped my elegant fingers around his glass, lifted it slightly off the table, and wiggled it in front of his face. "I'll get you another beer, tori-atama."

He certainly couldn't complain to that.

Sweeping the glass up as I left the booth, my heels clicked on the floor as I made my way to the bar.

"Here's another, Yoshi-kun." The glass made a scraping sound as it whizzed down the freshly waxed counter. Yoshitoki caught it effortlessly and held it under the tap. He glanced at me quickly before focusing his attention on the beer.

"So that guy at booth five… You know him?"

"Sort of. My friend knows his friend."

"Heh. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were going after him."

My eyebrows raised as Yoshitoki continued. "I mean; it looks like you're having a lot of fun playing with him from here." He set the beer on the counter and I snatched it up, staying by the bar for a few brief seconds.

"I'm not going after him, Yoshi-kun. I know not to mix business and pleasure."

Yoshitoki shrugged as another glass came sailing from the opposite end of the bar and I swiveled around and began walking towards Sanosuke.

Honestly! So maybe I was flirting a little bit, but I would never _seriously_ consider Sanosuke as a boyfriend. I mean, sure, he's rough and untamed and free and somehow reminds me of a stallion… but that is not loving, caring, buy-me-a-necklace-with-yellow-diamonds-in-it material!

Once again; I'm not a bitch. I just appreciate beautiful things… preferably beautiful things that sparkle.

I was interrupted from my thoughts on jewelry when a rather greasy customer swaggered in front of me. He was thin and reedy, no muscle at all compared to Sanosuke. His hair was slicked back and close to his head, and I was presented with a fantastic view of crooked, abnormally large teeth as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Hey there, pretty lady. You need some help with that?"

My eyes watered at the stench of his beer-breath; obviously Yoshitoki had been swamped again and had forgotten how much each customer had had to drink. I have this thing about looking people in the eyes when I talk—unless looking elsewhere will serve a purpose—but the expression in those beady black slits was so unsavory and evident that I focused on his nose (which looked like it had been squashed against a brick wall).

"I have it perfectly fine, sir. If you will excuse me…"

I made to push past him but he stuck out a bony arm to keep me from going forward. The part of my brain that was influenced by the uber-tomboy in our group, Yuuki, kindly pointed out that I could snap his arm like a twig if I so desired and that would be that. The sensible part of my brain said that would get me fired and that the situation didn't require violence…yet.

"Really, let me carry it for you. Perhaps I could help you with some other things as well…"

He grinned at me lecherously and my eyes narrowed. I was about to open my mouth and let loose with some dart-tipped verbal abuse; my free hand was slowly drifting to the carefully concealed sai under my waitress's skirt. I stopped, however, when a strong, rugged hand clamped onto my offender's shoulder.

The thin man gave a small 'eep' when he saw Sanosuke towering above him. The bird-head looked even more statuesque next to the human stick figure, and my breath caught slightly at his show of nobleness.

"She says she's got it. I'm sure she appreciates that you're trying to help, but…"

Sano's eyes took on a new degree of brown, suddenly burning so bright they looked blood red. "There is a point where someone can cross the line."

"Y-yes, sir! I-I w-won't make an-any trouble!"

Sanosuke smirked down at him. "Good." He said, releasing the man from his grip. He instantly scampered off to his table, where he remained for the rest of the night.

"Thanks, Sagara-san." I said, handing him his beer.

"Not a problem. Fools like that get their heads swelled if you don't deflate 'em once in a while."

Sanosuke raised the glass to his lips and paused. I stared at him questioningly, wondering if something was wrong. He quickly winked, then spun around and strode back to his booth.

I blinked.

_Did he just…? What the hell is that about?_

"Takani-san! Table eight!"

I snapped out of my stupor and hurried over to table eight to take their order. My thoughts kept turning back to Sanosuke; I was so distracted I abandoned my bitchy tactics for smacks on the knuckles when hands wandered. Around 12:00, near everyone had left. I had changed into my street clothes and was just heading out the door when I heard someone calling me.

"Oi! Megumi-san!"

Swiveling my head around, I caught sight of Sanosuke, who was miraculously walking towards me in a straight line. Poor Sano; he didn't get blind-drunk after all.

"You heading out?"

"Hai." There was a pause. "Thanks again, for helping me out."

"Like I said, it's no problem. Guys like that… they're scum."

I nodded. There was another pause. Sano broke the silence this time.

"Thanks to you, too. It's been a while since I could talk like that to someone. That monja-yaki was the shit, too."

I giggled, covering my mouth with my hand. Sanosuke could start swearing at the strangest of times. I kind of liked that about him.

"Arigatou."

I opened my eyes just in time to see him smile. It was a kind, gentle smile, something you wouldn't expect to see on a thug-looking guy like Sanosuke. I had to alter my image of him from 'stallion' to 'teddy bear'.

"See you later, then." He said, opening the door and breezing outside.

"Good night!" I yelled after him, and he replied with a wave of the hand, not looking back. I watched the bird-head cross the street (nowhere near a traffic signal) and stride down the sidewalk, casual and carefree.

My forehead rested on the glass as I let out a small sigh. It seemed I really had misjudged Sanosuke. He was a truly deep character.

Once again I had to come out of dreamland and my head snapped up when I heard a fellow waitress give a shout.

"What is it, Rijuki-san?"

"That bastard didn't pay his bill!"

Why that no good…! He's nothing but a street punk!

* * *

Yomiuri Giants: The most popular baseball team in the Japanese baseball league, the second most popular being the Hanshin Tigers.

Monja-yaki: It's lik okonomi-yaki, but without the egg. So it's basically a fried pancake of meat and veggies. Yum.

* * *

Review, onegai! I'm out of pocky, but I do have fudge! And if you don't like fudge then... then... I don't know.


	4. The Face of Buddha: Misao

Three reviews! I feel so... so loved!

I apologize for this update taking so long. I can only get to this story and Shifting Sands at my mom's house, and I'm there every other weekend and Mondays. Writer's block doesn't help either. But anyways...

Thank you for being patient, my two loyal reviewers. I give you chapter four.

-LE

* * *

May 15, 2007, afternoon—Misao 

The smell of victory. Nothing can top it, I tell you, nothing! When it's the bottom of the ninth, two outs, bases loaded, you're on bat with a full count, that ball comes flying at you and you feel the solid _thwack_ and the vibration of aluminum as you send the ball sailing over the fence, you get a rush like your skin's on fire.

I love baseball. Can you tell?

"Have a good time, Misao-chan!" Kaoru yelled out our window as I sped down the sidewalk on my silver bicycle. I twisted around so I could wave back, but my hand shot to the handlebars when I felt my massive equipment bag threaten to tip me over. Much as I hate to admit it, I'm small in stature; my bag is thicker than me at times.

I rounded a corner, one hand keeping my emerald-green baseball cap situated on my head. The bag rocked to the left and I thought we'd go down for a brief second, but I jerked the bike upright and we sped along.

Haiyuu poked his head out of the dark blue canvas of my bag and brought himself by my ear. _Please be careful, Misao! I'm feeling sick already. _

'_Don't worry! We both know I've got perfect control.'_

He mentally sighed and retreated back into the satchel. I giggled and zigzagged for about ten feet to shake him up. His mental yelps made me laugh again as I reached the edge of the park where baseball practice was.

A group of small kids, none of them more than eight years old, was gathered out on the diamond. As kids do, they were bunched up in their own little cliques, but they all swarmed over to me when they heard me ring my bike's bell.

"Misao-oneechan!"

"Coach Misao!"

Haiyuu's head poked out once more, his wet black nose quivering. He always loved being the mascot of our team; it gave him a chance to show off his acrobatic tricks and the kids adored him.

Seichiro, one of the younger boys, stretched his small, grubby hands towards Haiyuu. The itachi sniffed him cautiously, then scuttled up the boy's arm and rested on his shoulders. Seichiro giggled at the feeling of his padded feet tapping against his arms and lifted up his index finger for Haiyuu to play with.

"All right, kids!" I said, clapping my hands together. Instantly I had their attention; taming rambunctious little ones is one of my specialties, maybe because I'm a lot like a hyper kid myself.

"Last practice we focused on skills when we're on the field. Today we're gonna see how far you can whack this ball, okay?" I said, taking a baseball out of the bag and throwing it into the air.

"Hai, Coach Misao!" They all yelled back at me. I grinned and snatched the ball out of the air; I felt my long braid tug at my scalp as it swished in the air. "So let's get to it!"

"HAI!"

They dug into my bag and picked out batting helmets and bats, then scrambled to get in line. I smiled to myself and jerked my green hat backwards, setting my hand around the baseball in advance like I was about to pitch it.

Before I headed to the mound, I felt a tug at my elbow. Looking down, I saw Himiko, the oldest girl, had wrapped her small hand around my forearm. I blinked, slightly surprised; Himiko was incredibly shy, but she acted like a big sister to the rest of the team. There was probably something important she needed to tell me.

"What is it, Himiko-chan?" I asked, crouching down so I could look in her big lavender eyes. "Misao-oneechan… there's a man sitting at the bleachers."

My brow furrowed. People are allowed to come watch us practice, but if the timid Himiko felt like she had to come forward about him, something had to be up.

I stood up and looked toward the stands. Sure enough, there _was_ a guy sitting there; he was really tall—I must have only come up to the middle of his chest. His silky black bangs fell over his eyes, so I could barely make out chips of ice blue glancing over the fidgeting little ones. He had aristocratic features and pale skin—probably one of the few people whose families still practiced 'good breeding'.

I hate that, by the way. I really think marriage should be a matter of the heart. If you don't love someone, how can you expect to live a happy life with them? It's not healthy, ladies and gentlemen.

Anyways…

He was dressed pretty nicely for just watching little kids and a genki 21-year-old play baseball. He wore a long-sleeved shirt, with a collar and everything. The first two buttons were undone, but it was pressed neatly and didn't have a single stain on it. _Got bleach?_

His pants were black and slightly loose, but tailored in a way that favored his long, slim legs. His elbows rested on his knees, hands folded before him. The man seemed to realize I was watching him and turned his ice-blue eyes towards me.

I froze. What I couldn't see before now seemed to be crystal-clear; when I described his eyes as 'chips of ice' before, I had no clue how accurate I was. Those eyes were deep and intense; incredibly observant and involved in everything before him, yet frigid and separated at the same time. I found myself drawn to him, whether I liked it or not.

Briefly, something flickered in his pale orbs, but it was fleeting and he turned his head back to the team, which was getting more squirmy by the second. I remembered where I was and shook my head, setting my hand once more around the baseball as I stood.

"He's okay, Himiko-chan. He's got a right to watch."

She furrowed her brow as she tried to comprehend the deeper implications of what I was saying, then nodded and hurried off to the others.

As I approached the mound, I tried to steel myself. _Easy now, Makimachi. Don't let his presence affect you. It's just you and the kids; you're gonna bring the heat just like you planned._

Once I stood on that rubber rectangle, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened them, the man had almost completely left my mind, and I was focused on the kids before me who wanted to learn to play the great game of baseball.

Haiyuu was woven around the chain links of the backstop, high up where my pitches wouldn't whack him. For an itachi who had a queasy stomach, he sure was fond of a place that would shake like Mt. Fuji about to erupt every time my fastball hit it. I grinned at him and I swear I saw his head tilt down as he mentally sighed.

"Okay!" I said, and the entire team stopped fidgeting and snapped to attention. "First rule of batting: speed is everything. It doesn't matter how accurate you are, if you don't move fast enough to hit the ball, you'll strike out every time."

They ate it up, nodding so fast they looked like bobbleheads. "And so, I'll pitch faster and faster to you guys to build up speed. By the end of practice…" I grinned and slid my left hand into my mitt. "We'll see if anyone can take my Heater."

I heard excited whispers ripple through the team, but I cleared my throat and once more I had their attention. Keisuke, the oldest boy, walked up to the plate and sunk into a batting stance. I covered the lower half of my face with my be-gloved hand, glaring him down. He defiantly set his face in a scowl and I fought the urge to giggle; instead of being intimidating, he looked like he didn't have enough money to buy pocky. Too much baby fat.

Adopting a more intense visage, I wound my arm back and whipped the ball at him, giving about a third of my full power. My eyes, trained for inhumanly fast combat, saw every motion of Keisuke's swing, and I had to keep myself from bursting out in fits of laughter when he missed it by a mile.

Groans of empathetic disappointment echoed through the crowd, but I thought I heard a low chuckle creeping underneath the higher voices. I turned my head to the man at the bleachers—the only one who could have made such a deep sound—but his face was completely blank as he gazed at our ragtag team.

_Note to self: never play poker with this guy. That is, if I ever get to know him…_ _Arrgh, focus, Makimachi!_

I shook my head once more and came out of my reverie, catching the baseball when Keisuke chucked it back to me. "Noble try, noble try!" I said, smiling to reassure him. Once he sunk back into his stance, I pitched the ball to him again, this time going slightly slower.

Keisuke successfully cracked the ball sky-high, and I sensed his pride and happiness swell higher as the baseball sailed towards right field.

"Yatta, Keisuke-kun!" I yelled, then took off to retrieve the baseball.

Now, let's get one thing straight. It is a common misconception that the Chi no Miko controls only the earth underneath our feet. This is not true; I also have a connection with any plants that grow on God's green earth. So, you know how fast bamboo grows? Mm-hm? Same thing with me; I want to move fast, I haul my tail so fast you'd think I was a green, black, and white blur.

That being said, I zipped over to right field and made a fantastic diving leap to catch the ball, landing spectacularly on my stomach a fraction too early, mitt outstretched before me.

I buried my head in the ground, a fierce blush invading my face. Not only had I knocked the wind out of me, I had just made a fool of myself in front of our entire team, not to mention that hot guy at the bleachers. He was probably chuckling to himself right now, those ice-blue eyes mocking me from afar.

_Plop._

I looked up at the feeling of weight being added to my mitt and saw the baseball sitting in my glove, red stitches staring back at me. I hadn't misjudged the distance after all; whaddaya know!

"Yay! Go Misao onee-chan!"

I grinned as my second wind returned and proudly stood up, brushing myself off and pivoting around, holding the baseball in the air as though it was the Olympic torch. The cheers grew louder from the little ones and I jogged back to the mound, displaying all of my pearly whites in the biggest smile I could muster.

Himiko was next up to the plate, but she took her stance with less attitude than Keisuke had. She was a shy girl, like I said before, and it had taken her a while before she wasn't afraid of the ball anymore. I guess she didn't want to embarrass herself by making a big deal out of batting and missing every time.

'_Yo, Haiyuu. Can we get some encouragement for Himiko-chan?'_

Haiyuu nodded just barely towards me and closed his eyes. I felt a soothing mental wave pulse out from him, and caught the meaning of the message he was sending out.

_If you try with every fiber of your being… no one will care if you fail… _

Himiko's eyes widened the smallest fraction of a millimeter, but she bit her lip and sunk into a deeper stance, positioning herself over the plate more than she had originally. I thanked Haiyuu and swung my arm back, feeling the _zing_ of the baseball brushing my fingertips as I released it.

Violet eyes opened wide with glee and Himiko released one of her rare, beaming smiles as she cracked the ball out just above my head. I made a great show of ducking, even though I knew it would miss me by mere inches.

"Kami-sama!" I said. "Nice one!"

She turned a light shade of pink but kept beaming, skipping off to wait at the end of the line. I watched her go with a content, small smile on my face. That was what I loved about this job, maybe even more than baseball itself. I loved knowing that I helped someone's day become a little brighter, knowing that maybe from now on, she wouldn't be quite so scared of jumping in with both feet anymore.

I guess that's how I make the world a better place. Aside from the whole whooping-of-youkai-ass thing.

Before I pitched to the next kid, I stole a glance at the man in the bleachers one more time. I couldn't tell you why. It's just like that with beautiful people; you can't stop _lookin'_ at 'em.

_Beautiful._ Definitely a word to describe him. There was also gorgeous, handsome, sexy, hot… though would he be hot? I wonder if a man seemingly carved from ice can be described as, 'hot'?

I came up with my answer after another lightning-fast once-over:

Hell yes.

_Whoa, whoa, FOCUS, MACKIMACHI!_ I screamed at myself. _The children! Think of the **children**, for crissake! You are not here to oogle!_

I violently shook my head and continued with practice, putting everything I had into each pitch, which proved a little dangerous when I clipped a kid's hat right off his head. Once he stopped shaking, I pulled back a little bit, and we finished up practice with five kids successfully having creamed my Heater into the outfield.

"Great job, everybody!" I yelled. "Now go home and chill! We worked hard today!"

"HAI, COACH MISAO!" Twelve little voices hollered back in perfect unison. I always wondered how they did that, because I sure never told them to. I could probably take them to a Hanshin Tigers game and have them scream out stuff… like a little midget cheering section.

As rides arrived and the wee ones headed out of the park, I noticed the tall man at the bleachers getting ready to leave. I realized this was probably my only chance to actually get to talk to him, so I haphazardly stuffed Haiyuu into my bag, ignoring his squeaks of protest. Leaving a small section open so he could breathe, I jogged over to the already retreating form of the mystery man.

"Oi! Wait up!"

He halted, then barely turned around enought to look at me.

Straight. At. Me.

Ice eyes pierced through me with a keen, penetrating stare. No doubt about it; I had his full attention, just like I'd asked for. Crap. Now I know why they say, "Be careful what you wish for". I felt my throat tighten up, tension choking my words. What do I say? I made this deal of stopping him and I don't have anything to say!

"Um…" I started, testing my tongue to see if it still worked. "I just… I noticed you watching us practice…"

"I apologize if I was an intrusion."

What a voice! Gods above, so deep and thrumming…

"I-Iie! You were no trouble at all, we get lots of people coming to watch our practices… tho' today was kind of slow, I wonder where they all were…"

No response. He just kept staring at me. Lord, anything but the stare! Any longer underneath it and I'll either melt or freeze!

"A-Ano… So I… I saw you and I… I just wanted to ask your name."

My eyes drifted to the ground as I finished; was this how Himiko felt all the time? So unsure of what others would answer or think? I know I hated the feeling.

There was a small pause and I could feel his dry-ice gaze burning (or freezing?) into the top of my head, then shift downwards to scan the rest of me, like I had done to him before, though I doubted he was checking me out. The last thing I wanted to be checked out in was my baseball uniform.

"… My name is Shinomori. Shinomori Aoshi."

Last _and _first name? SCORE! Maybe he didn't think I was as lame as I thought he thought I was!

Before that last thought had time to confuse me, I lifted up my head and looked him square in the eyes, feeling my old Misao confidence coming back. I thought I saw his left eyebrow raise just a fraction of an inch at my boldness, but it quickly slipped back into place.

"I'm Makimachi Misao, 21 years old. It's nice to meet you."

I smiled at Aoshi, but his cold, inexpressive mask remained, like he was incapable of showing happiness. It was somewhat odd; whenever I see someone smile, I want to smile to. I wouldn't feel human otherwise.

I decided on something in my mind, right then: if I ever met this man, this Shinomori Aoshi, again, I would get to know him, and make him smile. Then I could probably die happy.

"So… um… are you gonna come to watch us again?"

His eyes closed, as though he was deep in thought. He pondered his answer for a few seconds before replying.

"Perhaps. My work tends to keep my busy. If I do have some free time, though…" His eyes opened again, and for a moment I fancied that I saw a brief flicker of warm humanity inside his wintry orbs. "…I will come to see you… and your team… again."

Aoshi turned back around and headed off, not once looking back. He rounded the corner and disappeared from my line of vision, taking his fiery aura of ice with him.

You know how I said you can't stop looking at beautiful people? It was the same when a beautiful person says he'll try to see you again, even though he is a busy man. You just feel… great. I felt a little light spark up inside my heart, and I giggled rather girlishly at the feeling of weightlessness that usually goes with winning a game.

I pedaled as fast as I could on my bike, filled with energy at the prospect of seeing Aoshi again. Maybe we could talk a bit more next time… Then again, I'd probably talk his ear off and he'd just patiently listen… but that's okay. Contrary to popular belief, I can be patient, too.

As soon as I made it back to the apartment complex, I bounded up the stairs two at a time, scaring the bezeejus out of Haiyuu since the roller coaster ride usually ends once we reach the front door.

Our apartment door was unlocked in record time and I launched myself onto my blow-out mattress on the living room floor, squealing into the pillow for about five minutes straight to get my energy out.

When I resurfaced for air, I was vaguely aware of Kaoru asking me what was up and Haiyuu crawling onto my back, but I had drifted into dreamland with my chin rested on my soft, cushy pillow.

"Aoshi…" I whispered, letting the name roll across my tongue. It sounded perfect to me, so poetic and romantic. You'd think only characters in manga have names like Shinomori Aoshi. It's so… otherworldly.

What would I call him the next time we met? I couldn't keep calling him 'Aoshi', it would be rude. But I didn't want to say 'Shinomori-san', either…

Without me fully knowing, I started trying out suffixes to see how they went with his name. "Aoshi-san?" Nah. Too much of a formal/informal mix. And it just didn't sound right. "Aoshi-kun?" No. I've just met him and he's probably older than me, anyway.

"Aoshi… sama?"

Aoshi-sama. Lord Aoshi. Definitely too formal, but… it had a ring to it. He did seem to be kind of… Lordly, in a way. Yes. I'll call him that.

Aoshi-sama.

* * *

About the whole formal/informal thing... usually when you first meet someone in Japan, you call them by their last name until you reach a certain degree of familiarity. Misao means that calling him Aoshi-san would be slightly confusing, since it would give the impression that she thinks they're close enough to call him by his first name, but sticking the -san at the end means that she still has respect for him and sees him as a casual acquaintance... ah, you see? I have now confuzzled myself.

* * *

Jasmine blossom625 and Nyako, I thank you. I present you with the revered reviewer's pocky. 

Want a piece of the pocky? Click the wee purple button down there...

It is now 12:15, and I am bloody effing tired. Good night.


	5. The Face of Buddha: Yuuki

Hello again!

Merry Christmahanukwanzaadanwali and a Happy New Year!

I'm sorry again for the late update, and I wanted to tell you guys that I won't be able to even work on my stories until the tenth of January since me, my mom, my mom's boyfriend, and my mom's boyfriend's daughter are going to Europe for vacation! w00t!

Anyways, this will be the first chapter with an OC's perspective. I'm warning you now; I adore Soujiro. He's just so cute and huggable and... and... well, just tell me if the OCis a Mary-Sue or not. I'd appreciate it.

-LE

* * *

May 15, 2007, evening—Yuuki

It's really a shame—killin' people is no longer an art form.

…What?

Okay, let me back up. I ain't some crazy mass-murderer, ya know? I don't take some sick pleasure in carving people up—unless there's the element of revenge. It's just that back in the day, like in the Sengoku Jidai and the Bakumatsu, people had to train for _years_ to get to the point where ya could kill someone with a sword or even your bare hands. Hell, even when guns first came out, you needed a certain amount of skill to actually shoot the target.

But now any damn fool can go out and get an automatic gun and start breakin' heads, no skill required. They don't even have to aim; they can just point in the general direction and let the bullets do the work.

Like this joker on TV. Pulls on a ski mask, gets his automatic gun, "Give me the money", shoots up the bank, and makes a clean getaway. Totally forgets about the banker who has a bullet hole the size of a friggin' softball in his head, or the 30-something magazine editor who's bleeding in four different places, or the little girl who saw her father get gunned down right before her eyes.

I flicked off the television before they could get a close-up of the banker's brains and glanced at my twin, Junsei. This kind of thing gets to her more than the average person; she's just so pure of heart—she feels everything, good and bad, even if it happened to someone she's never met.

Her gray eyes stared straight ahead, blank as the TV screen. They had turned inwards, like they always did right after a crisis, ignoring any outside stimulus and focusing on the pain.

She turned her moonstone eyes towards me and I felt a shiver run down my spine. You know how they say twins have a bond? Ours runs a little deeper than others. I can hear her thoughts sometimes. Right now, though, the despair was so thick it clouded her mind, and her thoughts were all jumbled up.

_Three more before their time… lonely for the rest of her life… cry every night… doushite… doushite ka?_

I saw tears form on the edges of her eyes and I found myself blinking back my own; they started running down her face in tiny, wet streams and I wrapped my arms around her, trying to absorb some of the hurt.

I hate seeing my sister cry. I hate anyone who makes her cry, and I let 'em know it, both verbally and physically. Ever since we were little I've been protecting her, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Sure, when the right guy comes along, I'll let him protect her—once I put the prospective husband through a gauntlet—but until then, I'm the only one I trust not to let her down.

No offense to Kaoru or Misao or Megumi—they've played the role of a sympathetic shoulder to cry on more than a couple of times, but they know that I'm her twin, and I'm the only one who can even get close to actually realizing her pain as an individual.

Junsei continued crying into my shoulder, deep wracking sobs that shook her small frame. Hot, salty tears continued to flow from her eyes and soak my shirt, making a big cold wet spot on my collarbone. Soon enough her tears dried up, but I still saw pain and sadness in her eyes when she pulled back. She didn't look me in the eyes, but stared at the black canvas of our couch.

"Oi," I started, rubbing her shoulder to get my attention, "don't be so sad. They're in a better place now, right?"

She closed her eyes to search for their spirits and I caught more of her thoughts, clearer now that the initial shock had passed.

_Up through the clouds to the big bright blue…_

"Yes…" She said softly. "They're all safe… but…"

"The little girl will be sad for a while. But in the long run, she'll view life in a more valuable way, and she'll know not to waste other lives like that bastard did." I said, squeezing her hand to reassure her.

Junsei looked up at me, gray eyes shining contently again. "Arigatou, nee-san." She said in her soft, gentle voice, squeezing my hand back.

Our stomachs rumbled at the exact same time, breaking our small moment of peace. Junsei giggled and scratched the back of her head. "Sorry! Late-night cravings…"

"No problem." I said, standing up and brushing myself off. "Can't help it much when it's 'that time of the month', ne?"

Junsei turned a light pink—she blushes very easily—and tucked her chin into her turtleneck, like she did when she was embarassed. She's not the type to talk about that kind of thing, but our periods happen at almost exactly the same time, so I speak up for the both of us. Which is fitting, since I get way more hormonal than she does. Does the phrase 'mood swing gone wrong' strike fear into your heart?

"I'm hungry, too. I'll go hit the grocery store, all right?"

Junsei opened her mouth to speak, but as soon as the words 'grocery store' left my mouth, Misao and Kaoru zoomed out of the bedroom, and Megumi rushed out of the bathroom, hair still wet and a towel wrapped haphazardly around her person.

"Pick up some Teppan Chicken, will you?"

"And Physician's Formula foundation!"

"And dish soap! Some sushi, too!"

"Okay, _okay_! Jesus on a stick…"

I headed out the door and jogged down our hall, which smelled like our decrepit old landlady whose earliest memory is of Perry's ships sailing into the harbor. Her smell is everywhere in that damn complex; I swear it follows me into town sometimes.

As I strode down the Tokyo sidewalk, I was faintly aware of the street lamps turning on, which was hardly necessary because of all the neon signs. The sky was a dusky purple, still in the small space between day and night. Now, despite my violent nature, distate for authority, and generally unorthodox behavior, my family is really traditional. I've been raised to think that twilight is a time where anything can happen, when the forces of fate can slip into our world through the gap between night and day to affect it directly.

And since I deal in the supernatural, I'm a little too aware how often that happens, and how unexpected it can be.

Suddenly, I developed a craving for sausage pizza, and as Kaoru'll tell ya, I cannot be stopped when it comes to food, especially when I'm on my period. So I booked it over to the nearest grocery store and quickly grabbed up the items my friends had requested, as well as some spring rolls for Junsei.

Once I had safely deposited all of it in a basket, I speed-walked over to the frozen section, knowing that the manager of the store (who oddly smells exactly like our landlady) would yell at me through all three of his teeth if he caught me running.

I skidded to a stop on the linoleum flooring and jerked my head to the right to face down the aisle, and what do I see?

A stockboy, parked right in front of the pizza section. The annoying thing was, he didn't seem to be doing anything useful. He'd take out a box of pizza, read the title, put it back in a different spot, then repeat with another box.

All for my convenience. Peachy.

I took a calming breath and started walking down the aisle towards him, my thick black boots clunking against the shining white floor.

"Ah, excuse me?"

And then he faced me. And it felt like the force of fate had slipped into our world through the gap between night and day to affect it directly, all for the purpose of playing a prank on my poor soul.

He had a youthful, heart-shaped face, all soft lines and smooth skin. His hair was a blue-black shade that reminded me of obsidian, and it fell around his face in just the right way to draw attention to his eyes; I had a perfect view of them, since he was only two inches taller than me at most. They were a vibrant cerulean color, deeper than the ocean and purer than the sky on a clear day. I could have stared into them for hours and still be finding new things inside those blue depths.

His lips curved up into a smile, and the small motion snapped me out of my haze. He spoke in a gentle, somewhat high voice for a guy, but it fit him perfectly somehow. "Can I help you?"

_Oh, yeah, the pizza!_

"Um, I just needed a… a sausage… pizza! A sausage pizza!"

His smile remained, but I had a feeling he wasn't mocking me. Still, another quick glimpse in his eyes told me that there was something… hollow about the smile, like his heart wasn't really in it.

Oh… the eyes…

_Agh! Look somewhere else, look somewhere else!_

In my search for a safe place to look without coming off as a total space case, I let my eyes wander downwards across his body. He was slim, lightly built, but I saw toned muscles as he reached down for another box in the freezer.

"Could you wait a little longer? I need to finish up."

Okay, now was that really necessary? I mean; it's not that hard to sniff out a box of sausage pizza and give it to a customer before continuing.

"Look, I've got friends back at my apartment who asked me to buy this cr—stuff," I said, catching myself before I started settling into my cursing mode, "And I need to get back soon. If you could just find a box of sausage pizza, I'd appreciate it."

He turned his smile on me again, his eyes squeezed shut in an undeniably cute way, and I almost felt my conviction waver.

"I promise it'll just be a little longer."

_Oh, screw it. I don't care how hot he is._ He'd worn my patience thin, and he was about to experience a mood swing gone wrong from the most violent miko yet to be seen.

"Listen, you!" I said, putting a hand on my hip and pointing at him ferociously. "Consider this your first and only warning; I'm bleedin', I'm bitchin', and I want my goddamn sausage pizza!"

What was his response? He stood up from placing a pizza box near the bottom of the freezer and turned those cerulean orbs on me again, smile still in place like I had not practically threatened him with grievous bodily harm.

"For one thing," he started, gentle voice still perfectly calm, "my name is Seta Soujiro and I much prefer it over 'you'. For another, I understand that you're hungry and have somewhere to be, but I need my job, and I'm sure you know how strict the manager is."

Ooh. Damn his attractive, calm-inspiring little ass.

"However, if you were willing to help me out, it would go much faster, and then we could both go home. Sound good?"

…Actually, it did.

My bad mood tapered off and I set down the red plastic basket and moved in front of the open freezer door. A blast of cold air hit me in the face and I shivered, feeling goose bumps pop up on my bare arms. I now severely regretted going outside in a black tank top, though my baggy jeans kept my legs toasty. Soujiro didn't seem to be affected at all, though—must be a side effect of being a stockboy.

I was trying to make sense of the categorizing system he was using when I spotted a box of sausage pizza staring up at me. Before I did anything else, I snatched it up and tossed it into the basket from about four feet away.

"Nice shot." Soujiro remarked, taking a supreme from the middle rack and stashing it in another section of the freezer. "S'no big thing. It wasn't that far away." He should see me with my bow. I never miss with that thing, even from 500 yards away.

"But it can be harder to sink shots when they're closer. Cheese goes up here." He said, tapping the top rack to show where he meant.

I shrugged; he was right. That's why those little kids have such a hard time at Bozo Buckets.

There was about a thirty-second silence as we re-sorted the pizza boxes. I noticed that Soujiro kept his unwavering smile the whole time. He had a nice smile, but it was kind of… creepy. Like he was a pod person or something. He was good-looking enough.

"So what's your name?"

"Hatake Yuuki. I'd give you my business card, but they're in my other baggy jeans."

He chuckled at that and I smiled. It felt like I hadn't totally given him the wrong impression, what with my whole 'I'm-gonna-hurt-cha' routine.

"Your name means 'bold', right? It certainly fits you. I've never been threatened quite like that in my whole life."

I winced—just barely—then went back to sorting pizzas. "Aa… I get that a lot. The whole 'genteel lady' thing isn't my gig."

"Oh, it's not that I minded." He said, pausing to look at me right in my eyes; once again my willpower liquefied under the bright azure gaze. "If you ask me, I thought you looked kind of cute."

"C-Cute?" My voice scooped up to a higher pitch than I intented, and I felt my cheeks heat with a blush. I had _never_ been called cute. I had been called stubborn, tomboyish, hell, even scary… but I was not prepared to be called cute.

And not by a blue-eyed, smiling stockboy who wasn't that bad lookin' himself.

So, while I sat there making a tomato out of my face, Soujiro was stocking the pizza boxes without a care in the world. "Yep. Actually, you were very cute, Yuuki-chan."

"EH!"

_Now he's calling me –chan? What, is the world on crack today?_

I put a hand to my forehead, trying to ease the migraine that had suddenly pounced on my head, and resumed sorting the pizza boxes. With the both of us stacking, we finished in about two minutes, and Soujiro kindly offered to ring me up.

Once his blue eyes were off me and focused on passing the items across the infrared laser, I had time to sufficiently wig out.

I probably looked like a truck hit me, grocery store light always made me look pasty; I was acutely aware of a pimple beginning to form on my cheek and scolded myself for not taking better care of my skin, like Megumi was always saying…

I then realized that I had no reason to care about that. Certainly no reason. None at all. Most certainly not a blue-eyed, smiling stockboy.

Shaking my head once Soujiro was finished, I handed him the yen, taking the plastic bag and the change without meeting his eyes again. I guess I knew if I tried to make eye contact I'd start freaking out again, and that would only confirm that I did care what he thought about me.

I made a beeline for the door, but my hand stayed when I head a gentle voice call, "Yuuki-chan!"

Knowing I would almost certainly meet my doom, I turned my head around to see a grinning Soujiro, eyes thankfully squeezed shut, standing at the register. He cupped his hands around his mouth to project his voice further, and he said:

"You look cute when you blush, too!"

I high-tailed it out of there so fast, I could barely hear his light laughter follow me.

* * *

Once I got back to the apartment, I deposited the bag of groceries on the kitchen table, my pizza craving having been blown out of my mind to make room for what I would come to call 'The Soujiro Incident'.

I entered our bedroom and started changing into my pj's; outside I could hear Misao, Kaoru, and Megumi squabble over their requests; once they had gotten what they wanted I heard Junsei fire up the microwave so she could eat her spring rolls warm.

The smell of fried dough worked its way through the cracks of the closed door and my hunger for a greasy slice of sausage pizza roared back to life again. I quickly tugged on my plaid sleep pants and a white t-shirt, then joined my twin in the kitchen.

"Thanks for running out, nee-san." She said as I extricated the pizza from our death-trap of a freezer. I held my hands at the ready, in case anything fell and caused an avalanche, then quickly shut the door before answering.

"No problem."

"You took a long time, though." She continued as she broke apart her chopsticks. I froze in place, the pizza still in hand. I hoped to kami-sama that Junsei wouldn't pick up on what had happened—my reputation as the 'tough girl' would never recover.

"Uhm… yeah, guess I did…" I answered lamely, popping the pizza in the oven, faintly aware I was starting to sweat. Gee, am I neurotic or what?

"Hm."

Junsei picked up a magazine that was sitting in the middle of the table and started flicking through it; I relaxed, knowing that her attention was diverted from me for now. That's one problem with being a twin: they know all your secrets.

I pulled out a chair and stared at the table while I waited for my pizza to be done; my thoughts went unbidden towards the Soujiro Incident, and I found myself playing that scene over and over again, even the part where he called me cute. Once the oven beeped, I pulled out the pizza, and the two of us ate in silence while our three friends turned in for the night.

Junsei and I finished around the same time, and we went to brush our teeth together. As I bent over the sink to spit out the blue toothpaste, Junsei started asking questions again.

"Are you all right? You seem… spacey. Did something happen at the store?"

I thought for a brief second before answering, taking care to keep my voice at one level. Junsei is very good at telling when someone is lying; she knows all the signs to look for, and the whole twin thing wasn't helping me either.

"No, nothing really. I got roped into helping a stockboy, is all."

"Oh. Okay."

She didn't seem to be satisfied.

I didn't like the underlying tension in the bathroom, so I went into our bedroom, opening the door slowly so I wouldn't wake Megumi. The kitsune onna was lounging on the bed, one of those silk eye-covering things strapped around her head. I never saw the point in those things. Your eyes are already closed!

Rolling out the double-size futon that Junsei and I shared, I pulled my teddy bear from my pillowcase.

Yes. I'm twenty-one and I sleep with a teddy bear. Now you know why I didn't want to damage my rep any further.

I had settled under the covers when Junsei entered, quiet as her rabbit shikigami. Even in the dark, I could see a small, all-knowing smile on her face.

"I know what's up with you." She said as she wormed her way under the covers.

"Oh yeah?" I said, feeling sleep starting to bat at my eyelids.

"Mm-hm." She closed her gray eyes, her words trailing off as she fell prey to the Sandman as well. "You've got a crush… on the stockboy…"

My last thought before I conked out was:

_I blame that damn stockboy for all of this…_

_

* * *

_

Doushite: why?

Perry's ships: When Commodore Perry sailed into one of Japan's harbors (I can't remember which) it marked the start of the Bakumatsu. So this is saying that their landlady was around in the 1850's. Yikes.

* * *

So, whaddaya think? I'm not a mind reader, so please review! 


	6. The Face of Buddha: Junsei

I'M ALIVE! Though those of you who read Shifting Sands already knew that... Sorry about the delayed update--I've had a busy few weeks and I got major writer's block on this chapter.

So... I didn't get a single fuckin' review for the last chapter. What, did it suck or something? Because if it did, TELL ME! Tell me so I can make it better! I beg of you, o noble and honorable reviewers! The power to make this story better is in your hands!

With that said, this is the second chapter with an OC. And I'd better get _at least_ one review for it! Evenif you don't have anything to criticize, justtell me that she wasn't a Mary-Sue. (Or maybe she is--but then you'dhave something to criticize.)

Of course, spazz-o-matic that Iam, I have forgotten to do thedisclaimer for not one, not two, but five chapters. So here it is:

I DO NOT OWN RUROUNI KENSHIN! It is the magnificent brainchild ofNobuhiro Watsuki, his assisstants, and ShounenJump.

So now... without further ado... here is the sixth chapter of Five Pointed Star.

* * *

May 16, 2007, afternoon—Junsei

I peered through the gaps in the wrought-iron gate that barred my way into a huge, pure white, western-style mansion. There was a good fifty yards of front lawn, all emerald, well-trimmed grass with a cobblestone path cutting through it. A wide porch overlooked the front garden, and white columns supported the top level of the mansion.

Digging into the pocket of my black slacks, I pulled out the slip of paper that had an address on it. I gulped when I confirmed that I was indeed at the correct house.

As I gazed at the looming building again, I felt a bout of nervousness approach. The client must be a very rich man—would he be offended that this so-called 'famous and talented onmyoji' was just a simple girl from Kyoto?

At once I wished I had Yuuki, or even my familiar, Nouka, here with me. But Yuuki can't communicate with spirits, and if I took Nouka with me, it could arouse some suspicion about my identity; the rabbit has always been the Rei no Miko's familiar.

So I was completely alone when the small golden speaker mounted on the fence buzzed—but maybe that was a good thing, since nobody was there to see me jump. The voice that came through was fuzzy and distorted, but it definitely belonged to a man.

"Hatake Junsei?"

"H-Hai." I stammered out, unsure if I should talk right into the speaker or if I should stand back. I settled for a slightly bent over position, still keeping a good distance from the speaker.

I could practically hear my sister's voice in my head. _Relax, imouto-chan! It's not gonna bite ya!_ It brought a small smile to my face as the client spoke through the speaker again.

"I'll open the gate."

"Hai." I said, sounding more confident this time.

The black wrought-iron gates creaked open, swinging into the estate and opening up to the cobblestone path. I started down it at a relaxed pace, taking my time to admire the evergreen trees that grew around the edges of his estate. As I walked, I pulled my hair into a low ponytail, leaving a few pieces out to frame my face. They were long enough to tuck behind my ears if I needed to; no matter how cool it looks in manga to have your hair flowing in front of your eyes, if an exorcism gets tricky you don't want anything impairing your vision.

Once I reached the porch, I made to knock on the oak French doors, but they opened before I could do anything and I was face-to-face with a man. Well, not exactly face-to-face… I probably came up to his shoulders.

At first I thought it was the client, but that couldn't be… he seemed so… _young_. His hair was snow-white, but it didn't look like he dyed it—every strand was like a fine thread of silk, and even though it looked like he just rolled out of bed, he wore it well. The structure of his face was masculine, but not overpowering, enough so that he had a defined jaw and high cheekbones. A ying-yang earring dangled from his left ear. Black sunglasses that reminded me of Vash the Stampede obscured his eyes partially so I couldn't get a good look at them. He pushed them up as they started to slide down the bridge of his nose, which brought my attention to his physique.

He wasn't wiry, like the Kenshin fellow that Kaoru met, but he was certainly not obese in any way, shape, or form. Even through his long-sleeved silk shirt I could see evidence of powerful muscles, and his waist was trim with long, lean legs. Something told me he had samurai blood in him, like Yuuki and I did.

The man raised his eyebrows at me, as though he was expecting me to say something. I realized that:

One: I did look like an inexperienced country girl in my white ¾ sleeve shirt, plain black pants, and—worst of all—_gym shoes_, and

Two: I was staring at my client.

"Yukishiro Enishi…san?" I said quietly, becoming fixated on the ground and only flicking my eyes up to him once, wishing I had worn a turtleneck so I could tuck my chin into it.

"Mmm. We spoke over the phone earlier. Please come in." His voice sounded much better in real life. It wasn't… deep, per se, but he spoke confidently, and it had an explicitly mature tone to it. It was then that I knew without a doubt that he was the one who owned this estate.

I imagined Kaoru cracking a 'master of his domain' joke and smiled as I entered the cavernous front room. I couldn't help but gape at the beauty of it; it had a high, vaulted ceiling, and red-carpeted staircases on either side of the room arched gracefully to the second level. There were a few plants in the corners of the room—something Misao would appreciate—but other than that, it was all white marble.

As he went between the staircases and opened a second set of French doors, his strong voice reached me again.

"I apologize in advance for the mess. My housemates aren't exactly tidy."

I saw what he meant once I walked through the French doors into what must have been the living room. The room itself was fantastic, with a large plush couch and a tremendous plasma-screen television. The speakers on either side of it were at least a foot high, and a DVD player and an XBox 360 sat in front of it. There was a coffee table in the middle of the room, and that seemed to have been where the trouble started.

A half-eaten pizza sat in its box on the table, surrounded by newspapers to try and keep various pieces that had liberated themselves from the box from dripping grease and ruining the wood or staining the carpet. Bags of chips and boxes of pocky—excuse me, _Men's_ pocky—were strewn throughout the room, beer bottles shoved unceremoniously into a corner. A can of coffee was perched on top of the television set, and a blanket was all twisted up on the couch, like someone had tossed it there after waking up and realizing they had to get to work in five minutes.

My attention was brought back to Enishi as he spoke again, this time from the adjoining and considerably less messy kitchen.

"I've persuaded them to leave the house for the day. I thought it might make it easier for you to work." He said as he leaned against the counter, resting his elbows on the butcher-block top. "Have you eaten lunch yet?"

"Oh, I don't eat before exorcisms. It's a… preparatory thing."

"Hmm. You took a purifying bath as well, then?"

I managed a small smile despite my nerves. "You sure know a lot about this, Yukishiro-san. I bet you could do it yourself."

He smirked, a little quirk of his lips that exposed the smallest amount of pearly white teeth, and I realized that he was quite attractive. I felt my eyes roaming down his form again—for reasons I didn't quite know—but they snapped up to his face as he spoke again.

"Unfortunately, I was not gifted with the talents of an onmyoji. It's just that I've had a number of exorcists come in to oust this ghost, and none of them have succeeded thus far. I did an internet search to find a more suitable psychic, and your name was highly recommended." He shrugged.

My brow furrowed slightly. What he had just said… some of it was truth, but… there was one part that didn't fit…

I checked his body language; no fidgeting, his shoulders were still relaxed; he was still leaning against the counter. His voice hadn't risen in volume, and he didn't hesitate with his answer… but there was one puzzle piece missing…

"Are you sure I can't get you anything?"

I opened my mouth, but closed it and slowly began walking towards him. Stopping just in front of him, where our toes were almost touching, I reached up, paused, then continued when he didn't make a motion to stop me. Enishi's arm twitched when I took the bridge of his sunglasses between my index finger and thumb, but he still didn't move as I slid them off his face.

My breath caught once I got my first glimpse of his eyes. They were a fantastic turquoise color, reflecting the light as though they were the precious stones themselves. Their depth was amazing, concealing layer upon layer of his inner thoughts, yet revealing an incredibly intelligent and calculating mind.

And they were, at the same time, so incredibly sad.

I caught brief flashes of memory in first person that were meant to be intrinsic, but had been accidentally passed to me. A beautiful woman with long raven hair smiling at me… the woman and a man with a topknot and black hair waving goodbye… the same beautiful woman, lying in the snow, a crimson stain blossoming out from her back like a flower of death…

_Nee-san… why…_

His eyes closed and the connection was severed. Without me knowing, he had retrieved his sunglasses and pushed them back up the bridge of his nose. Enishi turned away and began slowly walking back out to the entrance hall; I lingered in the kitchen, not sure if I should follow or not.

"I… I'm sorry…"

"Come." His tone was icy. "I'll show you where he is."

I nodded, even though he wasn't looking at me; in fact he didn't look at me the whole trip up the marble staircase and down a red-carpeted hall, passing five doors that had distinctly different auras. One of them was obviously Enishi's room, pulsing an active turquoise blue color. Another was white, but it wasn't a pure aura, more like something cold and indifferent. One was a deep crimson, brash and passionate. The second-to-last one was a buttery yellow, content and appreciative. The last one was odd; it shifted from a pleasant lavender color to roaring amber endlessly, like some churning storm of energy.

Enishi stopped in front of the last door, right at the end of the hallway. I noticed that the aura was different; it wasn't as solid as the others, more like a grey layer of smoke that engulfed it completely.

A ghost's aura.

"We were hoping to use this as a guest room." He said evenly. "Unfortunately, we found out that _he_ was here before we could invite anyone over."

"A-Ano… sumimasen, Yukishiro-san… but how do you know the ghost is a man?"

For the first time since the incident in the kitchen, he turned to look at me. His eyes were still hidden by his Vash the Stampede sunglasses, but somehow the expression in them made me shiver.

"Oh, just a hunch."

"H-Hai…" I said shakily, feeling more freaked out by my client by the second. It seemed like he was scarier than any poltergeist; he really _could_ have done this by himself.

"I'd like to sit in with you, if you don't mind."

I shook my head no—to show that I didn't mind—and he smirked to himself before opening the door.

The ghost's emotions smacked me in the face the moment I entered the room. Love lost, hearts broken, blood spilt… it was a classic Romeo and Juliet tale, minus the warring families. The room itself seemed to be filled with his gray smog, so thick I think I could have choked on it. I had lost all five basic senses, so I had to use my sixth sense to seek out the lingering soul.

When I finally got there, I almost cried; the man's soul was no man, but a young boy, no more than sixteen. He was sprawled out on a large bed, his face buried into pillows while sobs racked his form. Judging from his clothing—a cream colored gi with a white western shirt underneath—he must have been from the Meiji Era. The boy was still hanging on to this world, even after 120 years…

Immediately I rushed to his side, stroking his back gently. His head lifted up from the plush pillow and gray-green eyes stared right at me, tears beading on the corners of his eyes.

"You… you can see me?"

I nodded. "I'm an onmyoji."

His face turned dark as he scowled at me. "You're here to make me leave, aren't you? Just like the others…" His face embedded itself into the pillows again, but he had stopped crying in order to put on a defiant façade.

"No, I just want to talk." I said, sitting on the edge of the bed and resting a hand on his back. I briefly realized what this must look like to Enishi: me sitting on a bed and talking to no one, but I regained focus and turned back to the boy.

"What's your name?" I asked, smiling down at him.

"I'm… Shinkiro. Shinkiro Mashin."

My smile increased. "That's a wonderful name. I'm Hatake Junsei."

Mashin shifted from his lying-down position to sit up next to me. "So… you said you wanted to talk…?"

"Yes, about why you're here. Only if you're all right with it, though. I won't force you, Shinkiro-kun."

Mashin paused, looking down at his hakama-clad thighs. His hands fisted in the sheets, and I saw his gray-green eyes well up with tears again as he started to tell me his story.

My first instinct was correct; it was about a girl. She was a foreigner, named Samantha, whose father had come to Japan to deal in Western-style swords, and he was the only child of a tea merchant.

"Looking back, I don't know what she saw in me," he said. "I wasn't particularly strong, I wasn't rich, I was not of noble birth, but…" He ran his hand over the sheets on the bed. "This was her house… her bed… this is where she let me make love to her."

I felt the blood rush right to my cheeks and was faintly aware of Enishi's chuckling coming from a corner of the room. Mashin's aura was still too thick for me to see him, but I could just imagine a little smirk plastered across his face. Mashin didn't notice and continued on with his tale.

After their first night together, they began seeing each other in secret. Soon, however, Samantha's father discovered them, and he sent Samantha away to an all-girl's boarding school in England. Mashin had committed seppuku, dying like the samurai he had always longed to be. He had such a strong emotional connection to this bed that it was the first place his soul had drifted.

"…And I've been here ever since."

I patted his hand gently as he began to tear up again. "Shinkiro-kun… why do you remain here?" I asked gently.

"I already said—this is my last connection to Samantha." His eyes squeezed shut and he began to sob again. His retelling the story must have opened the wounds even worse. I wanted to break down in tears and cry along with him, but I knew that wouldn't help him find peace.

"Samantha-san… wouldn't have wanted you to stay here, weeping over things that were or could have been."

His eyes opened and he looked at me, tears shocked into halting for a few brief moments as I continued.

"I think… that she truly loved you, and all she wanted was for you to be happy, Shinkiro-kun." Mashin's bottom lip began to quiver again. "I know she's in a better place now, and she's been waiting for you to go join her." I had been gazing out into Mashin's gray fog, but now I turned to look at him directly, my moonstone eyes almost filling with tears of my own.

"Go on, Shinkiro-kun. You can be with her forever."

Mashin nodded, then bowed his head with his eyes shut. "Arigatou gozaimasu, Hatake-san…" I saw a small flicker of light from within his stomach, and the thick clouds of aura began to fade. "I know I can be happy now…"

The light inside his stomach spread outwards until it engulfed him, and with a final flash, Mashin was gone, as well as his aura. With my vision cleared, I saw that I was still sitting on the bed, and Enishi was standing right before me. Strange… the aura must have clouded my senses so much my hearing was off.

"Good job." He said, outstretching a hand to help me up. "Would you like to tell me what that blush was about?"

My cheeks heated again as his turquoise gaze roamed over me, his little smirk sneaking back onto his face again. "Well… well, no, I wouldn't!" I squeaked, turning away and walking out the bedroom door, Enishi sniggering uncontrollably behind me.

I took off my shoes once I reached my apartment; pulling out the wad of bills Enishi had given me. Despite my protests, he had paid me a total of 50,000 yen. Even though I do charge based on the client's income and satisfaction levels, it still seemed a bit… steep.

Yuuki was in the kitchen, making herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She glanced up once she heard me come in.

"Hey, imouto-chan. How'd it go?"

"Pretty good. He paid me 50,000 yen."

My older sister gave an involuntary twitch, which resulted in the peanut butter-coated knife to go flying into the air. My sister not having the most experience with knives, she yelled for Misao, who was watching television on the couch with Kaoru. The braided girl sprung up from her post and caught the knife by the handle in between two fingers.

"50,000 yen?" Misao said, raising an eyebrow. "You sure he wasn't into you or something?"

I really do not like blushing this much. Really I don't.

"I-Iie! Not Yukishiro-san! He's so rich and I'm just a country bumpkin from Kyoto!"

Yuuki gave me a, "So what does that make me?" look, but she knows I think about her differently; she was able to master the Tokyo dialect in a couple of years, so she could pass as a native, whereas I was still stuck in Kansai.

Megumi stuck her head out of the bedroom. "Did you say Yukishiro-san?"

I nodded and she gasped, then retreated back into the room. "Hold on! I know I've seen that name somewhere…" In a few seconds she came out, brandishing a magazine that was flipped open to an interview with some important businessman. "Here! Read it."

"…I recently had the chance to catch up with one of the up-and-coming players in today's architecture game, not to mention one of Japan's most eligible bachelors, Yukishiro Enishi-san."

My mouth opened and Megumi grinned. "I knew it! You have had a brush with greatness, Junsei-chan. Your most recent client is none other than the magically delicious Yukishiro Enishi, architect extrordanaire. Read it, it's all in there."

I was about to oblige when Yuuki spoke up. "What kinda magazine is that, anyway? 'Gold Digger Monthly'?"

"Nice!" Kaoru said, high-fiving Yuuki as she walked past to take a seat on the couch. Megumi gave my sister a venomous look, but I knew it was just part of their routine. Yuuki and Megumi have have a kind of respect for each other… in some twisted way… but it is there.

"But seriously… from the size of your fee, he might be calling you over again sometime… though not exactly to do an exorcism." Megumi said, chuckling behind the back of her hand.

I honestly think I'll have a red-out one day from blushing so much.

* * *

There really is such a thing as Men's Pocky. I don't know why theycall it that, because it's exactly like ordinarypocky...

Oh, and a'red-out' is when the blood rushes to yourheadso fast that you pass out, but your vision turns completely red before you do. Thanks to myAir Force-obsessed friend, Joe B. for the info.

Like I said earlier, review!I have replenished the supply of pocky, and I even have some Men's pocky if there are any guy readers out there!


	7. Safe Haven

So, another session of the Winter Olympics has passed. I'll have to wait four years for curling again. . .

Not that I particularly enjoy it. It just amuses me. (No offense to anyone who takes it seriously. . .)

Does anyone else cheer for Japan more than the U.S.? (or whatever your homecountry is?) I'm the only one I know who does that. . .

Just a warning note: I wrote this chapter while listening to the Starwarz Gangsta Rap, All Your Base Are Belong to Us, Gorillaz, Pink, and Missy Elliot. Hence, if it's a little. . . strange. . . don't be surprised. Just warning you.

I've been wondering about keeping up with the quotes at the start of each chapter. . . the only reason they haven't been making an appearance lately is because the last five all applied to the 'oni with a face of Buddha' concept. . . so, should I keep them? Discard them? Does anyone care? Does anyone remember what I'm talking about? Answer in the reviews!

DISCLAIMER, FOOL: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin, the chants used from Tokyo Babylon, or the youkai-rating system from Yuu Yuu Hakusho.

And so, without further ado. . . the seventh chapter of Five-Pointed Star.

* * *

"The place where we feel safest is often the first place we are confronted."

-Anonymous

* * *

May 17, 2007, night—Kaoru

Before I start, let me say that I really felt like I could cook tonight. Really, I did. I was all set to make an edible, if not somewhat tasty, meal for us. I wasn't going to try anything fancy; my plan was to stick to the recipe book and keep everything organized. The ingredients were prepared. The implements were ready.

And then, our stove blew a circuit.

And then, since our apartment is crappily constructed, our electricity went out completely.

And then, since they have not yet discovered the Electrician no Miko, all five of us were stumbling around our apartment in the dark for a good ten minutes, four of us cursing up a storm while we tried to find our shikigami and get out the front door.

_Sanzoku! SANZOKU! Where you at, fool!_

_Try right by your knee… fool. _

My eye twitched in annoyance as I felt his fur, soft but with a little prick at the ends, brush against my jean-clad knee. I could barely see his burly outline and the shine of black tanuki eyes as he looked up at me.

_Let's just get going. I think the others are already in the hall._

Sanzoku gave a small nod, then led me out of our apartment; I kept a death-grip on a lock of his fur so I wouldn't lose him in the darkness. Once we got into the hall, which was dimly lit by small lamps mounted on the wall, I released him and glanced at my friends.

"So… we're going to Haven?"

Megumi, ever the logistical one, nodded. "I don't exactly fancy the idea of trying to get a hotel room this late at night."

_Besides, _Kisai—her fox—smoothly added, _We haven't seen Tae-san and the others in a while. _

"Oh yeah!" Misao squealed. "It's been ages since I've talked with Okon and Omasu!"

We all agreed that it would be nicer to see our friends again than staying in a musty old hotel room, so we set off for Haven, strolling down the street, talking and laughing. In a couple minutes we reached an old shrine that looked comically out of place in the steel-and-concrete jungle of Tokyo. Its wood was rotting and ancient, water damage and earthquakes having nearly done it in. The half-collapsed torii still stood diligently before the shrine, straddling the worn dirt path.

When we stopped in front of the torii, Junsei set down her rabbit, Nouka. The small gray bunny turned its head from side to side, sniffing the air; he hopped forward twice, sniffed again; then turned back to us and scampered into Junsei's open arms.

_No traps. _He said. _It's okay. _

Junsei scratched behind his ears as a thank-you and we continued, taking care to test the steps before ascending. A gaping hole still remained from the time when Misao had crashed through the stairs and broken her leg. Tae had healed it as soon as we got to Haven, but it was all she could do not to scream her lungs out. She probably would have deafened us.

I could see she was recalling the memory as she glanced at the abyss, but she shook her head and bravely continued up the steps.

Once inside, I took my place inside the shrine and waited for the others. If you were standing in the door of the shrine, this is what you would see: me, in front of the altar; Yuuki, in the center of the right wall; Megumi in the lower right-hand corner; Misao in the center of the left wall; and Junsei in the lower left-hand corner. Our shikigami were all near us so they could channel our energy and we could channel theirs if necessary.

I nodded towards my friends and we all brought our hands in front of us, interlocking our pinky and ring fingers with the first two pointing skyward.

"_Om…_"

I'm never quite sure who starts our mantra; the deep, throaty voice doesn't sound like my own, yet I can always feel it reverberating in my throat. As I heard the others, I felt our energy begin to boil up and seethe in the air around us. Without looking, I could tell that Sanzoku and the others were concentrating, too, adding another layer to the chant on the mental plane. I felt the energy reach a certain level and I knew the second part of the mantra was approaching.

"_Om…_"

"_Bazara…_"

"_Daruma…_"

"_Kiri…_"

"_Souka…_"

I furrowed my brow in concentration, trying to hold onto my 'om' in our multi-layered chorus. Strands of energy swirled around my body, a metallic blue in color with small glowing orbs placed periodically on the threads. The orbs pulsed in time with both my heartbeat and our chant, growing larger as we pumped more energy into the chant. They danced around my friends, too, different colors for each element. Once they had the same diameter as a golf ball, I started the third phase.

"_Onabokya…_"

"_Beiroshana…"_

"_Umakabodaramani…_"

"_Handomajinpara…_"

"_Haraparitaya…_"

"**_UN!_**"

We said the last word together, as one entity, the different timbres of our voices blending together to create a spiritual chord that strummed my spine like it was a harp. My threads of energy joined into a thick rope that nose-dived into the floor and made a beeline for Megumi. Once it reached her, her own red cord was sent to Misao, whose acid green rope reached over to Yuuki, whose purple thread went to Junsei, whose pure white one stretched back over to me. A multicolored star was painted on the shrine floor, shimmering in the lightless room. It remained for a nanosecond before exploding into sheer light; colorless, weightless, powerful—I felt every molecule in my body begin to dissolve, and just before I evaporated into the air, I was pulled together again, miraculously with everything where it should be.

I made my rather ungraceful landing on the marble floors of Haven.

Looking up from my down-on-all-fours position, I saw that my four friends had safely landed… more or less. Misao was spread-eagle on her back, though thankfully she hadn't gotten the wind knocked out of her. Yuuki looked like she had just caught Junsei from falling—which amazed me, since I could hardly tell what was up and down when transitioning from one place to another. Must be a twin thing.

Megumi, as usual, was calmly standing upright—again, she had that freakish ability to keep her composure when her whole being was threatening to come apart. I respect it, but damn, do I envy it!

As I stood up, I couldn't help but think that we'd come a long way from the first time we attempted that spell. Yuuki, Megumi, and I hadn't even made it across; only Misao and Junsei since they had the lowest body mass.

My eyes felt drawn to the domed ceiling, like they always did, and I saw the enormous painting of a sakura blossom staring down at me. The painting was done so delicately, so beautifully, that it felt like if I could only reach the ceiling, I could feel its silky petals on my fingertips.

"Oh my! Are you all okay?"

I turned to the large, arched doorway where the voice had come from. The Kansai accent immediately told me it was Tae, but it still felt comforting to confirm it was her standing there, wearing an apron over her orange kimono and a piece of cloth covering her soft brown hair.

"We're fine, Tae-san." Yuuki said as she set Junsei down. "Our electricity went out and we needed a place to stay, is all."

I saw a gray-and-black striped tail swaying behind Yuuki and wondered if she'd grown a tail as a side effect of doing the spell, but she yanked on it and I heard a disgruntled yowl.

"Dammit, Okami! Don't latch onto my back next time!"

Yuuki looked like an electrocuted spider as she tried to pry the hissing feline off her spine. Okami had apparently dug her claws into Yuuki's back so she wouldn't get lost, but the cat had purposefully avoided any major arteries or veins.

Still, it must have hurt like hell. I sure was glad Sanzoku was too big to try that maneuver.

Misao sprung up, immediately hooked her small hands around Okami's belly, and tickled the cat until she let go with a final "Mreow!"

Yuuki glared at her once Misao set her down, but held out her hand, palm up, like she was offering it to the neko. "Truce?"

A padded paw tapped Yuuki's hand. _Truce. _

"Well, now that _that_ delightful adventure's over with…" Megumi said, "are we too late to have some dinner?"

"Oh, never!" Tae said, smiling happily and squeezing her brown eyes shut. "Okon and Omasu are just finishing up in the kitchen. Come on, I know the kids have been anxious to see you again."

I perked up at the mention of the kids, shaking off the energy-draining affects of the spell like dew off a blade of grass. "The kids" meant Yahiko, Yutarou, and Tsubame, two future priests and a future priestess that were undergoing their training at Haven. Yahiko and Yutarou showed great promise with swords, even though they both could be brats sometimes, and Tsubame was just as sweet as could be, studying under Tae to specialize in healing.

Tae led us out of the sakura room and down the hallway, made of the same creamy marble, and into the main chamber. The huge, circular room is at least ten times bigger than the sakura room, and I feel like an ant if I try to take in the whole thing at once. As our shikigami left us for the dorms, where their food was already waiting, I stared up at this ceiling, which had images of the gods from all different religions embossed in gold upon its surface. Like the sakura blossom, the images seemed so real it was almost like Ganesha and Buddha could fall onto the floor, dancing together to the music of Pan's pipes and Apollo's lute.

I heard Misao call my name and snapped out of my trance from gazing at the cavernous ceiling. Jogging to catch up to the rest of the group, I spotted Yahiko and Yutarou waiting in line to have Okon and Omasu dish out their food. Okon was tall and statuesque, with powerful muscles like Yuuki but a more 'womanly' effect overall. Omasu's curves were less pronounced than Okon's, but she had shining brown eyes and a polite, unthreatening air. However, in addition to being excellent cooks, Okon and Omasu are what we call "warrior priestesses"—that is, they can deport lesser demons if the five of us are caught up in some big mission involving the end of the world.

Before Yahiko and Yutarou were Kuro and Shiro, who often accompanied Okon and Omasu on their youkai-bashing missions. Kuro's the 'gentle giant' of our operation, burly and powerful, but he wouldn't hurt a fly if it were up to him. Shiro was shorter than Kuro, but he had built himself up so that he was strong and muscular without being too intimidating. It was a common rumor that Shiro and Omasu liked each other, and I didn't miss how their eyes held onto each other as she handed him a homemade bento. They both blushed a little and I suppressed the urge to "Awww" out loud.

Once we took our place in line, having successfully avoided catching the gaze of Yahiko and Yutarou, I had a better view of the whole cafeteria. The room itself was a new addition to Haven, so while there were the caramel-colored marble floors and shiny oak tables, the counter where you'd get your food was stainless steel, and there were garbage cans stuffed inconspicuously into a corner.

At a table, by themselves, was our only husband-and-wife team: Saitou Hajime and Saitou Tokio. I had talked with Tokio before, and she was a great person—no-nonsense and tough as nails in a pinch, but warm and motherly when you needed her to be. I had seen her do amazing things while fighting youkai. Saitou was equally skilled, but he lacked her warmth and… how do I put this… humanity. I thought he was a youkai the first time I met him, with his narrow golden eyes that made it seem like he could read your mind and blab every last secret to the whole of Tokyo… and he would, if you gave him a reason; he was one of those guys you were glad to have on your side, not spearing you with his katana.

Tae had gone down to sit with Yahiko, Yutarou, and Tsubame, and was now engaging in chatter with the normally shy girl. Sitting at their table was Okina, Misao's grandfather, a lovable lecher and self-proclaimed exorcist extraordinaire. He was the one who trained Misao in kenpo and taught her how to use her powers.

Misao was the only one who was born at Haven; Megumi's family was full of doctors, so she had used her powers to cauterize wounds without knowing where they came from. My father had been connected with those who worked at Haven, but there hadn't been any spiritual powers in the family for centuries. Yuuki and Junsei had been completely separated from it—they only found out when they hit puberty and their powers began to get out of control.

That was when the leader of Haven had stepped in: Hiko Seijuurou. The very sight of him was enough to intimidate even a B-class youkai (the most powerful class that could cross over to our plane). He was almost all muscle, but his aura was half of it; he just carried himself so confidently that there was no doubt that he was the most powerful priest in Japan. He was the one who had sought us out individually and brought us together at Haven. He was a good friend of my father's and was able to become my shishou so I could continue to learn Kamiya Kasshin Ryuu, my family's sword style. He also was a master of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu, an invincible style from the Sengoku Jidai. Hiko gave me a nod from his place in between Tae and Okina and I waved back happily.

"Hey, Kaoru-chan! It's good to see you again!" Omasu said as she handed me my bento box. "Hi, Omasu. Could I have some soy sauce, Okon?"

"She greets me with a request for soy sauce…" Okon said, feigning irritation but smiling as she gave me the packets with the salty black liquid inside. I smiled back at her before making my way over to the table and sitting down next to Yahiko, who was squabbling with Yutarou over the quail eggs.

"Cat-eyed freak, you hate quail eggs! Give 'em here!"

"Moron, I never said that! Get your own frickin' quail eggs!"

Rolling my eyes, I plucked the little egg from their hands and popped it in my mouth, winking at them both mischievously. Before Yahiko could leap upon me to twist off my head, Hiko stretched out with his tremendous reach and grabbed him by the collar of his gi.

"Control your anger, boy. You'll never get nearly as good as me if you can't keep a handle on your emotions. You probably won't get as good as me in any case, but take what you can get."

Did I mention how the whole 'most-powerful-priest-in-Japan' thing had given Hiko an ego the size of Shikoku?

Yahiko stopped struggling and sat in his seat, arms crossed, brown eyes shut as he huffed. "So, Kaoru," he started, deliberately putting on a mature front, "you gonna train with me later on or what?"

"Eh? I thought you only wanted to learn Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu."

"Shishou's a slave driver!" Yutarou piped up. I thought I saw a vein pulse in Hiko's temple as he sipped from his ever-present jug of sake. "Can I train with you, too, Kaoru? I need a break!" Yutarou's aquamarine eyes and Yahiko's brown ones seemed to plead with me, and I had to accept.

"Oh, fine! So long as Tsubame-chan can come along, too."

They gave me a questioning look, Yahiko's eyebrow almost disappearing into his permanently mussed black hair. "Well… I want her to get in some practice for healing any broken bones."

The two boys paled and Hiko gave a hearty laugh from his end of the table. Tsubame flushed just slightly and Tae and Okina chuckled. Suddenly, the bearded old man stopped and leapt up from the table. He made a beeline for Misao, who was walking towards our table with the rest of our crew; the small girl dropped her bento like a hotcake and dodged Okina's side kick with all the grace of a dancer, then lunged forward with the intensity of a tiger for an elbow-strike to the stomach, which Okina caught in his knarled hand.

"Still staying sharp, huh, old man?"

"You know it."

And just like that, Misao scooped up her bento, Okina straightened his clothes, and they both finished walking to our table. None of us had batted an eyelash during their exchange; it was how they greeted each other when they hadn't seen each other in a while. Perfectly normal.

…What?

In a couple minutes, we were all chatting animatedly. I had just been reminiscing with Tae when I noticed that Hiko Seijuurou was giving a fierce stare to the space straight ahead of him. I followed the path of his pupils to see what he was looking at, and my heart damn near threw a fiesta in my rib cage.

It was Kenshin.

I vaguely realized that he was accompanied by Sanosuke and three other guys I didn't recognize. I vaguely realized that my friends were also staring at the various members of his entourage. But once again I was captivated simply by the sight of him, of his crimson hair and gorgeous violet eyes. Knowing my friends, students, and teachers were present, I tried to hide it, but I just… couldn't. I had to look at him, like he was some magnet that I was eternally attracted to because of some inescapable law of physics.

"Kaoru-chan."

Hiko's deep voice whipped me back into reality, more out of a reflex than anything. When you've had The Incredible Hiko Seijuurou as your shishou, you learn to snap to attention at the smallest word from him. Or else he whacks you upside the head.

I gazed with my blue eyes into Hiko's olive-green ones, and I could practically tell what he was about to ask. "You were staring at the redhead."

"Um…" I said, acutely aware that Hiko wasn't even blinking as he continued to stare at me. "I… I was just wondering what he was doing in Haven. I haven't seen him here before."

Hiko's eyes were thankfully closed as he took another sip of sake. I exhaled, hoping he had accepted my excuse yet knowing he wasn't going to let it drop completely. I hadn't really lied; I _did_ want to know what Kenshin was doing in Haven. My mind wandered back to the first day in the park, when I thought I had heard his voice inside my head. Was it possible that Kenshin had spiritual powers? I hadn't picked up anything particular in his ki during that first meeting… then again, I might have been a little distracted with the whole kiss-on-the-hand thing…

"Those five are part of a new division here." Hiko said, having finished drinking his sake for the time being. His eyes remained closed as he set his jug onto the table.

"What… What kind of division?"

He opened his eyes, and my priestess intuition kicked in all too late. You know how when you're solving word puzzles, and the answer seems so difficult until someone tells you what it is? It was like that, except on a much bigger scale and a much bigger feeling of inadequacy. I nearly kicked myself on the spot for missing it up till now.

"The division for youkai allies."

* * *

And yes. . . bento can be a dinner food, even if it's a cheap one. Building the cafeteria took a lot of cash, so Haven's going through a fiscal period right now. That's my excuse.

Reviews, please! Can't say much more, the dinner bell is ringing. . .


	8. Alone in the Apartment with a BirdHead

Hey everybody!

Wow, a lot of reviews for the last chapter! It's always nice to see a new reader on there--it's even better when they like the story! I was relieved to find that my OC's were approved by the readers, and the romance is coming! I'm just... uh... making it dramatic by drawing it out? Yeah... sure...

Thing is, I don't want it to be like, Kenshin and Kaoru throwing themselves at each other in the second chapter when they've just met, shouting, "I love you! I've always loved you! Our children will grow strong on the cries of those who would deny our love!". I'm trying to keep it a little realistic here. Which brings up the next question... lemons or no lemons in the future? If you're for it, tell me the pairings and I'll give it a go. They won't pop up for a few chapters, but they will be there.

**DISCLAIMER:**I do not own Rurouni Kenshin!

And so, without any further ado, I give you the eighth chapter of Five Pointed Star.

* * *

"You're not too smart, are you? I like that in a man."

-Cathleen Turner, _Body Heat

* * *

_

May 17, 2007, evening—Megumi

I closed my eyes and let out a lengthy breath through my nose. To anyone watching, it must have seemed like I was keeping my composure perfectly, which is exactly what I wanted them to think. Inside, however, I was screaming with frustration and sheer rage. Being the Hi no Miko naturally means that a state of anger is akin to an eruption of Vesuvius.

So. Youkai allies, were they?

I stood, my eyes still closed and hands calmly placed on the table. I had to keep the façade up for as long as possible; that way it would sting unexpectedly hard when I made my attack.

Deception: it brings out the bitch in you!

"Um… Megumi-san?" I heard Junsei quietly say. I temporarily ignored her—making a mental note to apologize later—and strode over to where Sanosuke and the others were waiting in line. Our table was positioned so that Sano couldn't see me sneak up behind him. One of his friends—the one with white hair who looked oddly familiar—appeared to have sensed me, but my cinnamon eyes were blazing and he wisely chose not to say anything.

Once Sano was in range, I reeled back my hand, heating it just enough so that it could burn, but not enough to produce a flame; then I smacked him upside the head.

Hard.

Sanosuke's whole upper body jerked forward, and he whirled around to see who had dared infringe upon his personal space. The bloodlust in his eyes vanished when he realized that it was none other than me, the hot waitress from the sports bar, back for revenge.

"That," I began, "is for deceiving me." I smacked him again, this time on the right cheek. "That is for not saying you knew I was a miko. And this," I slapped his left cheek, "Is for hiding your youki so well. Welcome to Haven, Sagara Sanosuke."

And with that, I pivoted around and calmly walked back to the table.

* * *

_So now he thinks you're a crazy bitch. _

_I never said that._

_But you know I'm right. _

I shot an acidic glare at the kitsune, but his all-knowing fox grin remained. Kisai had always been too intuitive for his own good.

After my fantastic display of cliché feminine wrath in the cafeteria, I had finished my meal in complete silence. Most of my friends had given me looks that plainly said they were questioning my sanity, and Yahiko and Yutarou had done the, 'we don't know this crazy Priestess of Fire' act.

I had wasted no time in lingering around the cafeteria and had headed straight towards the dormitories, pointedly ignoring Sanosuke on my way out. Once there I had glued myself onto the couch with a book packed with medical essays and had refused to answer Kisai's craftily worded questions about what had happened until ten minutes ago.

Of course, now that I had let it out, I was severely regretting my actions. Slapping Sano had served no purpose except for a brief moment of satisfaction; and even though he was a youkai, he was obviously on our side. Now that I thought about it, even the fact that he didn't reveal he was a demon didn't merit a slap. What was he supposed to say? "Oh, and by the way, I'm a youkai who's going to be joining you in Haven in a couple days. Can I have some extra meat in the monja-yaki?"

And now he thought that I was a crazy bitch. Fantastical.

_Well, you've stepped in it this time, li'l Miss Fox. _Kisai said, leaning his canine head upon his crossed paws. His clever golden brown eyes closed in preparation for a nap. _I wish you the best of luck in straightening this out. _

I narrowed my eyes at him—partially because he had called me 'li'l Miss Fox' and partly because he wasn't going to lift a finger to help me. But the kitsune continued to ignore me, slumbering away on his futon. I sighed and went back to my book, which was currently questioning the ethics of genetic manipulation.

Wouldn't you know it? Just as I was actually beginning to engage my brain, the doorbell rang. I rolled my eyes and remained where I was, turning my attention back to the essay. The doorbell rang again, followed by a few sharp knocks on the Western-style door. I did not move from my spot on the couch, but I was now staring at the door and trying to light the person on the other side aflame.

It wasn't working; I heard a deep sigh from the other side.

"I know you're in there, Megitsune."

Ah. So it was _him_. Fat chance I'd open the door for _him_!

"I just want to talk. Open up, c'mon."

I felt my resolve start to weaken at the sound of Sano's deep voice. I had _smacked_ him in public, for God's sake; the least I could do was let him in. By the tone he was using, he didn't really want to be here, but had come anyway—and it had better be to apologize, for _his_ sake!

"_Please_, Megumi-san."

Oh, damn it all to hell.

I dog-eared the page and went to the door, checking through the peephole… just to make sure. I was greeted with the sight of an angular profile and wild bird-head brown hair. Sano still had the red bandanna and the ripped jeans, but he had traded in the black shirt for a white one with 'aku' written on it in kanji. Opening the door, I set one hand on my hip and put on my, 'you betta start grovelin', boy' face. Hopefully that shouldn't give him the idea that I was lowering my defenses.

"What is it, tori-atama?"

Sanosuke had been staring at his gym shoes and only now looked up at me. He looked me square in the eye and sucked in a deep breath, like he was gathering his strength.

"Look, I probably should have told you what was going on at the restaurant. I probably should have said that I knew you were a miko. But I didn't. And so… I'm… I'm…"

He gritted his teeth and scowled, his tongue apparently having turned to lead. After about a five-second pause, he spoke up, but it was barely a whisper.

"I'm sorry."

Oh, _yes_! Two little words that were music to my ears.

Yet I feigned a bout of deafness and cupped my hand behind my ear. "Hm? I didn't catch that." I said, barely restraining my lipstick-painted lips from pulling into a kitsune grin.

"I'm sorry, already!" He practically barked out the words, still staring at a spot to the right of his gym shoe. "An' I'm not gonna apologize for the youki thing! I'm not really a demon, anyway!"

Excuse me? Not a youkai? _Not a youkai_? Then what, I ask, was he doing in the division for _youkai allies_!

The confused rage must have leaked onto my face more than I expected, because Sanosuke caught a glimpse of me and sighed again.

"It's a long story. Could I come in?"

Ah, the classic, 'can I come in' line. I've heard it many times before, though they were all in situations quite different from this. I started gauging the possibility that any observing passers-by might take this the wrong way; however, the desire to know the truth about Sanosuke overtook my logical brain. I opened the door wider so he could enter.

The bird-head mumbled a thanks as he entered, removing his shoes once inside. I saw Kisai give Sano a quick once-over, but the kitsune's eyes were closed again before Sanosuke even looked his way.

"That your familiar?"

I gave a curt nod before moving into the kitchen. "Do you want anything?" I asked. "Coffee, water…?"

"Um… you got any beer?" He said, a sheepish grin spreading across his face as he took a seat at the oak table. I rolled my eyes. Beer; of course the loudmouth street punk of a pseudo-youkai wants beer. The one thing I don't have.

Still, I ducked into the refrigerator and pulled out the only thing resembling alcohol: sparkling grape juice. I saw Sano's eyebrow quirk as I set it down on the table.

"Sparkling grape juice, huh?" He said, reaching for the bottle that was made to look like champagne. "Were you planning on having a ten-year-old's birthday party in here?"

I rolled my eyes—again. Funny how one man could get me so exasperated in a matter of minutes, then completely dispel the frustration with a single smirk. "Iie. Junsei-chan—she's the Rei no Miko—doesn't drink alcohol and her birthday is coming up. We were going to celebrate with her and her twin."

"Oh. I'll try not to drain you dry, then." He finished pouring himself a glass and sat back in the wooden chair, slumping over just slightly. "Now before I start, Kenshin put me up to this. So don't go thinking I'm some kinda touchy-feely guy, okay?"

Ah… that explained his appearance at my doorstep.

"So… about my past…" I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table as Sanosuke began.

"I was born as a plain old regular human. My mother died giving birth to me and my cop dad had gotten shot before I was born, so it was just me and my big brother, Souzo. He was a nice guy, really gentlemanly. You woulda liked him." He smirked over at me for a second and I couldn't help but return the gesture.

"I remember having a lot of energy as a kid, always running around like crazy, playing 'Cops and Robbers' with my buds. I always won, just 'cause I… well, I could kind of _feel_ where they were, you know?"

I nodded; Sanosuke must have had the faint ability to detect ki as a child.

"I was proud of my humble little power. It wasn't anything epic, but it was mine. When I was about eight, Souzo signed me up for boxing lessons; my natural toughness and strength made me a natural, and it seemed to increase my awareness. It almost got to the point where I could walk around my elementary school blindfolded. Someone must have gotten wind of it, because…"

Here Sanosuke faltered. His face darkened and I saw his fist clench on the table. I started to say that he didn't have to talk about it if he didn't want to, but he began again.

"Souzo and I were out one time. We were just walking back home from the convenience store. I was walking on the building side, like Souzo always told me to. Suddenly…" His voice cracked and I thought for a second he'd stop, but Sano kept going. "We passed an alley and someone grabbed me. He… whatever had me… stunk. It stunk to high hell. It was more powerful than anything I'd ever felt before. Souzo lunged towards it, and the thing tossed me down so it could pull out a gun. There were two shots…"

Sano's fist clenched tighter and he trailed off. There was a long pause, and he ground his teeth together, like he had to keep himself from saying anything more. When he spoke again, he avoided the subject of his brother completely.

"I looked back at the thing, so pissed but too scared to do anything. It stooped down to pick me up again, but a sword pierced through its chest, stopping before it could hit me. When the thing fell over, I could only see two amber-colored eyes behind it before I blacked out."

Sanosuke's hand relaxed and he leaned forward, taking another sip of sparkling grape juice, not a care in the world. "When I came to, the first person I saw was Kenshin. He explained how he had saved me, and he's been stuck with me ever since. Later on we met up with the rest of the gang, and the rest is history. I'm still a ningen; I guess being around such powerful youki just rubbed off on me. Like a magnet picking up iron filings, I guess."

He stared absent-mindedly at the glass of sparkling grape juice before commenting, "This ain't that bad. Tingles a lot, but it ain't that bad."

I felt my teeth tug at my lower lip as Sano continued to suck down the sparkling grape juice. Not thirty seconds ago his dark brown eyes told of angst and sadness, and now they were carefree and relaxed—like we'd been talking about the weather or something so trivial. I realized that Sanosuke must have seen much more than the aforementioned incident to be able to switch moods like that. Though his past was now clearer, I still had much to learn about the bird-head; the thug image now seemed like an act to hide the real Sanosuke underneath.

Once more I was forcibly reminded of myself. Strange.

"Any questions?"

My cinnamon eyes re-focused on the complex man before me, and I took a few moments to let his query sink in. He was probably offering me an opportunity to change the subject.

"Ano… Are any of the others human?"

"Hmm…" Sano stroked his chin, one eye closing in deep thought. "No… I'm the only ningen… But Soujiro an' Aoshi are hanyou."

"Really? Hanyou?"

"Aa… I think Sou's dad was a demon of illusion, and Aoshi's ma was an ice maiden… Kenshin and Enishi are the only full-blood youkai. An' both of them are demons of battle, so they kind of got the double whammy in terms of strength…"

Something in my mind clicked when Sanosuke mentioned the name "Enishi'. The man with white hair in the cafeteria had looked painfully familiar…

"…_One of the up-and-coming players in today's architecture game… Yukishiro Enishi-san…"_

"This Enishi… he wouldn't be Yukishiro Enishi-san, would he?"

Sanosuke blinked. "Yeah, that's his name. What about it?"

"He's an architect, ne?"

"Yeah. So?"

He still didn't get it. I sighed, rubbing my temples with my thumb and forefinger. "It's just… frustrating that such powerful youkai are seen by the public eye, and we didn't have any idea about it until now. Yukishiro-san and Ken-san even met, face-to-face, with Kaoru-chan and Junsei-chan, but we didn't notice their youki at all." My voice lowered to a whisper. "Some miko we are…"

I gave a minor start when I felt a strong, warm hand cover mine on the table. Looking up, I saw Sanosuke was looking at me, that small, strangely sweet smile on his face. "Oi, don't beat yourself up for it. Kenshin and Enishi have been around for over a century, you know. They've had plenty of time to practice hiding their youki from people who have a sixth sense."

"But we're the Go Miko no Soshi!" I shouted, my frustration nearing its peak. "We're supposed to be the most powerful priestesses in Japan! We aren't allowed to just let youkai slip under our radar!" I pulled my hand out from under Sanosuke's and slammed both of my palms onto the wooden table. I was faintly aware that the air had become warmer around me and made an effort to restrain my powers. Still leaning over the table, I glared at Sanosuke, who met it with a carefully neutral stare. After a brief pause, he gave an answer, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Well, you're only human, right? Even if you weren't, everybody makes mistakes. This time you were lucky that we turned out to be allies, so you can just be more careful the next time around."

Ooh, curse his simple truths-spouting ass!

I swept the bottle of sparkling grape juice off the table and huffed into the kitchen, chucking the half-empty bottle into the fridge with such force I was surprised it didn't burst on contact. Sanosuke gave a short laugh but I threw him an icy stare.

"You find my disgruntlement amusing?" I said, feeling dark brown flames of color leak into my irises from my pupil. Sanosuke held up his hands, palms facing forwards in the 'my hands were empty when that kitten was killed' gesture. "Okay, number one: too many big words, and number two: I was just thinking how each time I've met you, liquor or liquor substitute has been involved. Just a thought."

"Hm. Considering your nature, I don't think I should be surprised at that." I snapped, not in the mood for Sanosuke's simple-minded, albeit humorous, musings.

"Oi! What's that supposed to mean?"

That was a good thing about Sanosuke; he always went for the bait. My patented kitsune-onna smile emerged as I sat across from him again, tossing my sleek black hair over my shoulder. And I'm well aware that some of you may be tut-tutting me for cheering up because I'm teasing someone, but let he who has not sinned cast the first stone, ne?

"You know what it means. That's probably why you were fired in the first place, for being drunk on the job!" On reflex, the back of my hand rose to cover my mouth as a laugh escaped me.

"OI!" He sure did like that word. "I'll have you know I was never drunk on the job a day in my life! I was a damn good construction worker!"

Oh my. Construction worker, he says?

I had the sudden mental image of Sano in one of those muscle tank tops and his ripped jeans, tanned skin glistening with the sweat produced by a Tokyo summer as his muscles rippled. The thought affected me more than I expected, and I found my mouth gaping slightly. Luckily, the bird-head hadn't noticed.

"The only reason I got fired was because I'd turn up late… or not at all."

"And that would be because…?"

He cast his eyes downward and muttered something that sounded strangely like, 'hangovers'.

I let loose with another laugh and Sanosuke scowled at me, standing up from his chair at long last.

"Well, _Megitsune_, I suppose I should be going now!" He said, making sure to sneer at me for the 'Megitsune'. I made another vow to get him someday and brushed past him to open the door. Sanosuke swaggered out of my apartment, but before I could close the door, he looked over his shoulder and winked at me.

"And don't think I didn't see that dreamy look in your eyes when I said I was a construction worker. Later!"

He gave an abrupt wave and took off down the hall for his own room, leaving me gaping in the doorframe. Kisai's mental sniggers reached me and I slammed the door shut, whirling around to face the kitsune, who was perched atop the coffee table like I had explicitly told him _not_ to do countless times.

_Yare, yare. Looks like he's making you lose your touch, kitsune onna. _

I narrowed my eyes at Kisai and stomped over to the couch, once more pasting myself to the couch and turning to the page I had carefully marked.

_I'd rather that he think I'm a crazy bitch._

_

* * *

_

So? How's about it?

Don't forget to respond about the lemons! I am merely your humble servant, mighty reviewers. Your wish is my command.

-LE


	9. The One Her Heart Belongs To

Yeah... so this is the replacement for the previous chapter nine, just because I forgot the all-important quote. Apparently I stopped writing long enough to forget the format of my own stories... heh.

I killed off myMySpace in favor of a Fiction Press account... which has nothing whatsoever in it... YET! For some reason, my Fanfiction is infinitely better than my original fiction. Don't ask why. Because I don't know.

_Shifting Sands_ and _Pairs_ are not dead! I have not given up on them, it's just taking me a ludicrous amount of time to write new chapters. I'm working hard, I promise! I'll even try to get up a new chapter today... along with a new FPS chapter.

**LE DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Rurouni Kenshin!

And with that I give you the (revised) chapter of Five Pointed Star.

-LE

* * *

"Unless it's mad, passionate, extraordinary love, it's a waste of your time. There are too many mediocre things in life, and love shouldn't be one of them."

-Frankie, _Dream for an Insomniac_

* * *

May 18, 2007, morning—Misao

When I rolled out of bed and managed to stumble into the bathroom for a shower, I only had two thoughts on my mind. The first was: _Damn, I'm hungry._ The second was: _I hope I can see Aoshi today._

After dinner in the cafeteria, I'd tried to find Aoshi to see if we could talk a little more—hell, I would have settled for just being in his presence—but tall, dark, and youkai was nowhere to be found. I'd assumed he just retreated to his room, and it probably didn't have anything to do with me, but still… it affected me a little more than I expected. I guess it's just another one of those magical abilities that beautiful people have. You're disappointed when you can't be near them.

Sure, most of us were mad when we found out the boys were youkai; Megumi had flat-out slapped Sanosuke, and it was plain in Yuuki's eyes that she was merely postponing her revenge for the proper time. It's almost worse when she does that instead of immediately going Terminator on the offending person's ass. Kaoru was mildly pissed, but Kenshin had smiled over at her a few times during lunch, and the resulting blushes had probably cleared all forms of anger from her mind. Junsei had seen the other side of the story instantly and forgave them; but then, Junsei's got enough forgiveness to fill every person on the planet.

And me? I'd barely heard Hiko because I was too busy staring at one Shinomori Aoshi. Now, Aoshi's the kind of person who'd look good in just about anything—aside from the totally ridiculous stuff, like a goat herder's outfit or something. In business clothes, he's stunning enough.

But he is positively dynamite in a trenchcoat.

The drool-fest that followed was only stopped when the _thwack_ of Megumi's palm connecting with Sanosuke's head echoed throughout the lunchroom. Hiko had repeated his little revelation to me, and I almost felt a brief flare of anger at Aoshi.

And then I looked back at the specimen of a man in a trenchcoat, and I realized that it was a personal thing, anyway, and Aoshi-sama probably wasn't the kind of person to mention personal things during the first conversation, or even the tenth. So he was a youkai. I could deal.

_Actually, he's hanyou. _Haiyuu mentioned as I stepped out of the shower cubicle. The weasel was curled up on the counter next to the sink, and he gave the smallest twitch when I turned on the water to brush my teeth. He's jumpy like that.

_Huh. Let me guess… half ice demon?_

_Yep. _

I spat out the blue toothpaste and tilted my head back to gargle, firmly holding the fluffy green towel around me. Virtually everything in my apartment is green and white; that's the beautiful thing about Haven. They let you do whatever you want with the decorating.

Haiyuu jumped down from the counter and wound around and between my feet as I walked back into my bedroom; he told me it's like his morning yoga routine. Wakes him up nicely.

He gave a squeak when I threw the towel over his head so I could get changed without worrying about being spied on by an itachi; I pulled on a green wife beater (I know they're mobster shirts—I just love 'em so much) and a pair of jean shorts. Even though Haven had central air conditioning, I was planning on heading to the dojo with Kaoru, and it was always hot in there. It could be the middle of winter, and it'd feel like thirty degrees Celsius. Besides, I was never one for wearing big, baggy clothes. Kami-sama knows I'm twiggy enough without burying myself in XXL-size t-shirts and making myself look even smaller.

Tugging the towel off the squealing itachi's head, I began the lengthy process of braiding my hair while he sized me up for approval. Haiyuu gets all fashion police if he thinks I'm showing too much skin.

The six longer, stiffer hairs that served as his eyebrows raised.

_You wouldn't be trying to impress anyone, would you? _

'Course not. I wasn't attempting to catch Aoshi-sama's attention, no I was not. It was just hot today, and the dojo would only serve to make it hotter. I had to dress for the weather.

…Okay, so maybe I _was_ showing off a bit.

In the end, I didn't answer Haiyuu and breezed out of my bedroom, pausing at the door to the hallway to pick up my prayer beads and kunai. Stashing the kunai in the holsters on my thighs, I glanced back at Haiyuu, who had followed me and was looking up at me like a worrisome parent.

I really don't like it when he does that. I mean, he worries about everything else, so I don't want him fretting about me all the time, too. Plus, it puts a damper on my high. And a repressed Misao is an angry Misao.

The itachi saw the exasperated look in my eyes and sighed.

_Just don't get in over your head, Misao. _

_What's to get into? I know what I'm doing._ I replied, giving him my ear-to-ear grin and striding out the door. Haiyuu mentally called out, but I shut the door; the wards on the frame cut off the telepathic connection. I felt a twinge of guilt at being so rude, but if I had let him continue I would've started to get second thoughts.

_Okay, Makimachi. What's the game plan?_

Catch Aoshi-sama's attention. Oh, and go to train with Kaoru and the kids.

I decided to head towards the dojo first, knowing that Kaoru subscribed to Hiko's 'beat on them in the morning, perfect technique in the afternoon, and beat on them some more at night' philosophy. I checked the clock hanging in the hall; it was 8:30 in the morning. She'd have started by now.

My slim legs worked faster as I bumped the pace up to a light jog; I realized the muscles in my legs were tight, so I made longer strides, not so much running anymore as I was leaping very close to the ground. My legs seemed to lengthen with every step, and soon I was flying, hitting that magical rate where even the wind resistance falters and there's nothing holding you back. I sped down the dormitory wing and into the main chamber, turning on the ball of my foot to the left, towards the dojo.

As I entered the hallway where the dojo was, I heard Kaoru ordering Yahiko and Yutarou to do fifty lunges.

"Fifty!"

"Yes, fifty! If you don't like it, then lengthen your stance next time!"

"But you weren't even looking!"

"Lengthen it!"

I giggled as I slid open the traditional shoji doors, drawing the attention of Kaoru and the kids; Tsubame was sitting against the opposite wall, dressed in a pale green yukata. There was a first-aid kit next to her in case her healing powers didn't cut it. You never could tell with Kaoru.

Both of the boys were out on the floor in stances, their shinai extended before them, dressed in spotless white gi. Both the sleeves and the pant legs had been rolled up in a fruitless effort to fend off the heat. They were soaked to the bone, though whether it was sweat or water I couldn't tell.

(Kaoru liked to give her students a 'wake-up call' by dumping buckets of water over their heads. Thankfully she'd spared Tsubame.)

"Oh, Misao-chan!" Kaoru said, grinning evilly. "Don't you agree that the boys here need to lengthen their stances?"

"Undeniably!" I strutted into the dojo, twirling a kunai around my first finger. I duplicated Kaoru's grin as Yahiko began to sputter like a madman.

"You weren't even in the room! How the HELL are you supposed to know—"

"Oh, just give it up, Yahiko." The more fatalistic Yutarou said. "We probably do need to lengthen our stances anyway."

"The hell I will!" Yahiko fumed, brown eyes burning bright with rage. He has this whole 'fight the powers that be' thing going. I can't wait to see how he'll turn out as a priest.

Kaoru set her face in a determined glare, no longer amused with Yahiko's stubborn ways. "Fine then. Show me a front stance and we'll settle this once and for all."

The black-headed youth smirked and placed himself in a front stance, shinai extended valiantly before him. There was a pause as Kaoru appraised his stance; she had made no comments after ten seconds, so Yahiko—of course—felt the urge to open his mouth again.

"So, whaddaya think, sensei? Nice and _long_, ne?"

Kaoru promptly smacked the outside of his front knee with her bokken and Yahiko buckled, crashing to the floor in a cloud of cuss words.

Yutarou burst into convulsive laughter and Tsubame rushed over to Yahiko to check if he was okay. That girl's so sweet to the boy—it's obvious to everyone except Yahiko that she's got a crush on him.

So, completely ignoring her queries, the spiky-haired boy popped up, inarticulate with rage. Kaoru closed one eye and looked down at him with the other, displaying her shishou-knows-best smirk—another quality she'd picked up from Hiko.

"Why, you were right, Yahiko! Your stance is plenty long enough, your knee's just caving in!"

I giggled, but my attention was soon averted from the brawl in the making by a small flicker of ki. It was weak, painfully so, and felt like it was trying to make some sort of connection. My emerald-green eyes searched the dojo, but I didn't see anything out of the ordinary.

The flicker came again, stronger—though now I could tell that the person attempting to make the connection was severely injured. They must be expending all their energy to somehow reach the dojo. Was it a warning from one of the guards, maybe? I squinted as my eyes scanned the dojo once more; don't ask me how it helps, I just concentrate better like that.

Suddenly, there was a blast of cold air and I knew something was definitely amiss. Cold does not happen in the dojo. I shielded my face with my arms, only faintly aware that Kaoru and the kids had finally stopped bickering and had noticed what was going on.

There was a burst of ice-blue light, and my eyes shut reflexively as the bitter wind intensified; it stung my face and I felt tears bead at the corners of my eyes against my will. I heard my prayer beads on my wrist clack and prayed to Buddha that the kids would run from whatever the hell was coming for us.

Slowly, the wind ceased, and I lowered my arms, opening my still-tearing eyes in preparation for an attack. My guard dropped entirely at what I saw, however, and before I knew it, I was running towards the man who had just entered our dojo via a teleportation spell.

"Aoshi-sama!"

I crouched next to Aoshi, who had fallen to his knees the instant his feet had touched the wooden floors. I put my hand on his shoulder, but he was freezing cold and I pulled back instinctively. A thin layer of frost engulfed his whole form, and quickly melting snowflakes were stuck in his midnight hair. A crimson gash went down his cheek, contrasting viciously with snow-white skin; frost seemed to be gathering around the wound and stitching together over the cut. As I looked the rest of him over, I noticed that his trenchcoat was split open in countless places by other cuts, and bright red blood was visible through the slices in fabric. I regained my focus long enough to yell for Yahiko and Yutarou to go get Tae.

He began to fall over, but I caught him, making an attempt to ignore the frigid shock that made my flesh jump. His right hand—the one closest to me—grasped what looked to be a daitou, and his left hand cradled his stomach. Dark crimson blood splashed to the floor as he coughed, his handsome face twisted in pain. I felt a lurch in my stomach as I saw the tremendous gash across his abdomen; I felt my heart lurch as he pivoted his head to look at me. His ordinarily intense ice-blue eyes were hazy and distant, half-lidded, half-dead.

"Misao…"

He collapsed.

My muscles gave a sudden strain under his weight, and I managed to gently lay him down, belly-up, on the dojo floor. Kaoru snapped out of her own trance and rushed to my side, dragging Tsubame along with her.

"Tsubame-chan, can you heal him at all?" Kaoru asked, blue eyes pinning Tsubame with one of her powerful gazes. The brown-eyed girl nodded timidly, shaken by the sight of so much blood but trying to not let it bother her. Her small hands moved over the cut on Aoshi's face first, and a pale-green light emitted from them, knitting the small wound closed. Aoshi's eyes had closed, and he looked frighteningly pale, like he was in that narrow space between life and death. Tears came to my eyes again, though this time they weren't involuntary.

Kaoru squeezed my hand, and I tried to stifle the tears, not wanting to cry in front of her. Crying would only deteriorate our morale, including Tsubame's. The small girl was our only hope for Aoshi right now.

Thankfully, the shoji door rocketed open, and Tae ran in, escorted by Yahiko and Yutarou. She knelt beside Tsubame, who had begun to sweat from the effort; her green healing light began to fade as she finished with his arms, then went out entirely. Tae immediately took over, her brown eyes fully opening as her own light, a gentle gold, washed over Aoshi. Any remaining scratches were instantly healed, and the large wound on his stomach slowly began to inch closed. After a nerve-strangling five minutes, the bleeding stopped and Aoshi's stomach was intact once more. I released a tremendous sigh and almost began to tear up again; Kaoru gave me a one-armed hug and I returned the gesture.

It's hard to describe the jubilation you feel when you realize that someone, someone who managed to mean so much to you in such a little amount of time, someone who was balancing over the abyss of death, is _alive_. I felt like I could burst with relief.

Something stirred by my knees, and I took the time to glance down at the wooden floors of the dojo; a thin root was running past my leg, and I followed it to the frame of the door, which was promptly sprouting branches like a sapling. As I looked around, all the wood in the dojo seemed to be coming to life, pushing up young saplings of oak and maple. The trunks were thickest at the wall, and those trees were already producing small green buds, which unfurled into vibrant jade-green leaves in a matter of seconds.

In a hot minute, I had unconsciously turned our dojo into a miniature forest. The ceiling was coated with fertile emerald leaves, gnarly roots racing up and down the floor. My tears had completely vanished in wonder, but my attention was once again drawn to Aoshi as I felt his cold ki begin to gain strength. His eyelids fluttered, and they slowly rose, revealing his beautiful ice-blue orbs that were once again clear and focused. Aoshi looked up at the ceiling for a few seconds, and then—it was so tiny that it barely existed—but I saw him give the smallest little smile.

For a brief second, everything just seemed so… perfect.

Then, of course, I felt a poor little sapling in front of the doorway get sliced in half and winced. My head whipped to the doorway to see who could have dared to murder one of my saplings, and I saw Saitou Hajime step calmly into the dojo.

Of course. The one guy who's merciless enough to slaughter an innocent young tree. And the one guy who's creepy enough so that I won't maul him for it.

_Is he--? He's smoking! In a goddamn forest! Does he **know** what that does for the trees! That inconsiderate bastard!_

Saitou ignored my growing rage; he focused instead on Aoshi, who was hauling himself up into a sitting position. I have utter faith in Tae's healing ability, but I found myself glancing over his stomach, just to make sure.

"_And what fine abs you have, Aoshi-sama!" Said Red Riding Hood…_

"Hn. Hiko-san seemed to think there was some commotion down here, so he sent me…" He paused to exhale some cancer-inducing smog, "But it looks as though things are under control. I was afraid the itachi musume would have a panic attack and foul things up."

_He said WHAT!_

Oh, that was the last effing straw. I was about to launch myself at Saitou, human-cannonball-style; before I could move, Aoshi was on his feet and looking to beat me to the punch. Yet instead of attacking, he began to speak.

"Misao-san was very calm during this whole ordeal, despite being unaware of the circumstances. She was the one who ordered Yahiko-kun and Yutarou-kun to find Tae-san and, if I'm not mistaken, stayed by my side the entire time. Am I correct?"

He looked over his shoulder at me, and I nodded numbly. Aoshi-sama… sticking up for me? It was so surreal I half-expected for the scene to freeze and for that announcer from "The Twilight Zone" to ask some profound question about my life.

But that didn't happen, though there was a pause as Aoshi and Saitou exchanged a wordless stare. Saitou broke the silence first, grunting in that eloquent way of his. (That was sarcasm, by the way.)

"Very well. No need for me to hang around."

He pivoted on his heel and calmly walked out of the dojo, his hand having never left the hilt of his katana. I swear he didn't even blink while he was in here. That man shall live on as a scary story mothers tell their children so they won't misbehave. "The Saitou monster will get you!"

Aoshi gave his thanks to everyone in the room, save me, that is, and I snapped out of my Twilight Zone trance long enough to realize that they were leaving Aoshi and me alone. When he fully faced me, I felt the overwhelming power of his icy eyes consume me yet again. We could have been meeting for the first time, for all it was worth. I realized that I was still kneeling on the floor, and he loomed above me like some sort of god. A few snowflakes still lingered in his hair, and somehow the backdrop of green leaves only made his features look even more divine.

Now, I've always believed that demons are the bad guys. You never think to put a face on the ones that you slaughter, or if you do, it's always an ugly one. Something easy to hate. So now, looking up at Aoshi, I found it impossible to believe that half of his blood was the same as that of the many demons I'd deported back to Demon World, or sometimes even killed.

Yet it was true. This man—this incredible, amazing, positively _gorgeous_ man—was a hanyou. And just knowing that was changing my way of thinking forever.

"I was visiting my mother's grave in the Frozen Lands in Demon World."

My eyes refocused as Aoshi began to speak again. Somehow his voice held a special power when he was speaking to me and me alone. It didn't seem as flat as when he conversed with anyone else.

"Sometimes… sometimes the Yuki no Oni wait by graves to attack any mourners. I was unlucky enough to encounter five larger ones. I apologize if I scared you, Misao-san."

I sighed in relief; don't ask in relief from what, because I honestly don't know. I was pretty much a pile of nerves at that point.

When I reopened my eyes, I gave a small start when I saw that Aoshi had crouched down so his eyes were level with mine. Up close, I could see small white flecks in his blue irises. Like it was always snowing in his eyes.

Before I could react, he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just over my earlobe. My heart could have burst from my chest, it started going so hard. I'm just not used to any guys being in such close proximity, and Aoshi was… well, I think I've elaborated on how fine he is enough. In the corner of my mind, I realized that my shorts were riding up my thighs, and wished I could move to adjust them.

"Thank you…"

I blinked, but by the time the hushed whisper had made it to my addled brain, the shoji door was sliding closed. I felt my legs go weak, and I touched my ear where Aoshi's lips had brushed it.

Aoshi Shinomori was a mystery. He was a hanyou.

He was the man I loved.

* * *

Somebody tell me that I don't suck...please?


	10. Forgive and Forget?

Hey! Here's the new chapter like I promised! I can't say much, as I'm very hungry and need to be at my dad's house by four.

Enjoy!

-LE

* * *

"To be wronged is nothing unless you continue to remember it."

-Confucius

* * *

May 21, 2007, night—Yuuki 

When Megumi and Kaoru first burst into our little Tokyo apartment one rainy day, raving about this fantastic, all-natural cosmetics store, I knew I would inevitably be dragged into it. The odds were four-on-one; Misao had been won over at 'all-natural' and Junsei didn't want to cause a fuss by resisting. That's my job.

So, even though I knew fate had already been a bitch again and had dictated that I _would_ go to this store, I dug in my heels so hard there were skid marks from my boots on the sidewalk. (I love my boots. Wear 'em everywhere.)

But when they finally _did_ drag me into this store, I immediately decided that the term 'cosmetics store' could not do this place justice. Oh, sure, they had the traditional soaps, lip balms, etc., but that was where the cliché ended. They had these clever things called Body Butters that melt a bit every time you use them, hair dye made from this stuff called henna, and—get this—_solid_ shampoos and conditioners. Apparently they last about three times as long as the liquid stuff.

But the best, the _best_ thing they've got is undeniably the Bath Ballistics. I'm telling you—I have seen the future of bath time, and it resides at Lush.

I let out a happy sigh as I sank into the tinged-orange bathwater that smelled like jasmine and self-confidence. I know, jasmine's usually Kaoru's territory, but she lent me a Youki-hi Bath Ballistic one day, and I kept it stashed at Haven for emergencies.

Oh, and just in case you all think I'm goin' girly on you, it's not happening. But even I need a chance to relax every once in a while. Besides… I'd had a hard four days of both plotting and executing my evil scheme of revenge against one Seta Soujiro.

The process of creating evil schemes is not easy, my friends. Much effort and many hours that should have been spent on sleep were expended to bring this scheme to fruition. And when the deed had been done…

I shall eternally savor the look on his face when he saw his precious royal blue Suzuki Bandit coated in soy sauce and wasabi: the most deadly combination of condiments known to man.

Too much? Too little? Did he ever get it cleaned out, or did the unholy mixture permanently damage the engine? I honestly don't care. I did research, dammit—he keeps that motorcycle guarded like the Holy Grail—and the money for all that soy sauce and wasabi came out of my own pocket. I had exacted my revenge, and I wanted to relax.

The water from the bath warmed my skin, and I felt my tense muscles loosen as the scent of jasmine rolled over me again. Megumi had received news from the electrician that the apartment was fixed and we should be able to move back in tomorrow… I would never have to worry about dealing with a cute, blue-eyed, hanyou stock boy ever again…

Fate hates me. I swear to Kami-sama.

My eyes opened as a rhythmic bass line—the kind that you feel instead of hear—began to vibrate the walls and thrum into my bones. It was like those really annoying guys who are trying to be 'gangsta' so they turn up the bass in their cars so loud it causes an earthquake in Hokkaido. For chrissake, my shampoo was rattling on its shelf!

This is the part where I say that I tried to ignore it—except I didn't. That just ain't the way I operate. Instead, I immediately stood up and dried off, pulling on a pair of shorts and a baggy t-shirt. Whoever the _hell_ was blasting music at—I checked my digital clock—11:00 at night, I was not getting all glammed up for 'em.

As I entered the hallway, the music became clearer, and I barely recognized the artist as the song ended—Right Said Fred. There was a few second's pause, and I thought for a brief minute that whoever was playing the music had realized how goddamn _irritating_ they were being, but soon the music started up again, and now the song was unmistakable.

Right Said Fred. The people who do "I'm Too Sexy".

Now, I don't mind that song. I actually kind of like it. But at eleven at frickin' night, when I was trying to enjoy a relaxing bath, I was not. In. The mood.

There aren't locks on the doors at Haven—the wards keep out any supernatural enemies, and we all pretty much have an unwritten, mutual agreement to keep out of each other's rooms. Hey, would _you_ want to know what Saitou Hajime does in the dark of night?

However, I decided this was more a public service than anything.

So I grasped the handle and opened the door, but what I witnessed made me stop dead in my tracks. You know those people at dance clubs who can't dance all that well, but they're just having so much fun with it that you've got to give them props?

Apparently Seta Soujiro is one of those people.

The boy was practically flailing about his living room, yet he danced with a swordsman's grace, so even his totally random and oddly spastic movements looked practiced. He must've known the song, too, because he was belting out the lyrics like nobody's business.

He whirled around unexpectedly, pausing in his frantic dance to take in the sight of me, halfway through the door with my hand still on the doorknob. He had the grace to stop the music so I could actually hear him when he spoke to me. "Aah, Yuuki-chan! Come in! I was just making a little snack."

Soujiro indicated to his kitchen, and I did a double take when I saw what was conspiring there. 'A little snack', he says. There were bowls and measuring cups everywhere, and evidence of spilled flour could be seen on the bar. There was the scent of half-baked brownies in the air.

He sauntered on over to the said bar, still muttering the lyrics under his breath. Once he was inside the kitchen, he rested his elbows on a part of the wooden bar that was clear of flour and smiled at me. Like he was always smiling.

"What are you waiting for?" He asked, looking as innocent as ever as far as I could tell. Could this boy feel no rage? I had massacred his 'baby'! Well, any other guy would consider a badass motorcycle like Soujiro's his 'baby', but Soujiro wasn't exactly conventional.

I hesitantly stepped into his apartment, closing the door behind me. As soon as I did that, of course, I became aware that this scene could have been taken straight out of a serial-killer movie. You know, innocent-looking guy (who's always smiling!) luring another person into his abode, waiting for the exact moment when their back is turned to come up behind them with an ice pick, some haunting cello music playing in the background.

I hate those fucking movies. Now I might as well be in one.

Still, I walked into his little kitchen and took a seat at the table. Soujiro turned around to face me, leaning against the bar. Since his… erm, energetic dance had distracted me earlier, I hadn't noticed what he was wearing. Nothing fancy, just dark blue pajama pants and a white muscle tank top. Which was funny, because you usually see guys built like Hulk Hogan wearing those tank tops. Soujiro was a tad too slender, more toned instead of bulky… lithe…

_Careful! Slender stock boys have access to ice picks!_

I tensed up as Sou pushed off the bar, but he waltzed right past me and opened the fridge. A blast of cool air hit me, and I flashed back to our first encounter at the convenience store.

Right. Can't get distracted now. This boy deceived me _and_ called me 'cute' right to my face. I must not give him the satisfaction of letting him know that he was making me as nervous as I'd ever been in my life.

"Do you want anything?" I turned my attention back to Sou, who had his head stuck in the refrigerator. "I've got Asahi Super Dry and… I think that's cheese… there might be some beef jerky in the cabinets…"

Beef jerky and brownies at eleven at night. Soujiro was living la vida bachelor.

"Um… I'm okay, thanks…"

He emerged, bottle o' beer in hand, and flopped down on the opposite site of the table—he really did _flop_. Like a rag doll or something.

Soujiro twisted off the top of his beer—bare handed, too, it was quite impressive—and placed it to his lips. I watched the air bubble float to the bottom of the glass as he took a hearty swig; my head cocked in thought as I wondered just how Soujiro had gotten beer in the first place. He could have looked like a teenager to any store clerk with half a brain.

"Hey… How old are you?"

His cobalt eyes drifted towards mine for a second, and he set his beer on the table. "Ningen or youkai years?"

"Er… both."

Soujiro bit the inside of his cheek and cocked his head much as I had, squinting as though he was in deep thought. I thought I would burst out laughing if he said that he didn't know his own age, but his answer came soon enough.

"Around two hundred and twenty in human years, and twenty-two in demon years."

Shit. That must be old for a hanyou… but Soujiro had yet to acquire even a single gray hair. Not one wrinkle, unless you count the occasional shadow of a dimple.

He chuckled at my look of surprise. "Didn't they tell you? The life expectancy for a hanyou is about 800 years. Full demons can live up to 1600 years."

I gave a noncommittal 'hm', which was overlapped by the oven heralding the completion of the brownies with a _beep_. Soujiro popped out of his chair and practically lunged towards the oven, yanking open the door; I barely saw him tug on the oven mitts before taking out the tray of brownies and setting it on top of the stove. I watched this whole display wearing the famous, "WTF?" expression of one eyebrow raised; I had time to wonder again why he wasn't even pretending to be mad at me. He was the same chipper Soujiro that I'd met at the convenience store, open and relaxed.

I almost wanted him to be mad, just so I'd know that I wasn't dealing with some psycho killer who could feel no emotions. And in the wake of that thought, I did an incredibly stupid thing.

"Aren't you mad at me?"

I had to say that right as he picked up a knife to cut the brownies with.

He paused, and I saw his body temporarily tense up, as though trying to restrain some sort of violent reaction.

Ulp. Cue the cello music.

But then he turned around, and his smile was still there. (The neurotic part of me recognized that the knife was still in his hand, too.)

"What—about my bike?"

I nodded, that tiny little nod that you do five or so times, bobble head-like, while you're trying to convince yourself that you're not scared. _Damn you, my treacherous body! DAMN YOU!_

He shrugged, then began playing with the butter knife very creepily, running the tips of his fingers down the edge of it and whatnot. I wished that I'd at least brought my quiver so I could retaliate by stabbing him with an arrow if he attacked me.

"At first, yes, I was quite mad. I still haven't managed to get all of that shit off."

Whoa there. Soujiro swearing? I must have _really_ pissed him off…

I squirmed uncomfortably, as he was still playing with that goddamned butter knife (substitute it with an ice pick and I was in a freakin' serial killer movie again), and he continued to speak in that low, strangely calm voice, focusing entirely on the knife.

"But I kept thinking, 'I must have done _something_ wrong.' Even if it didn't seem that bad to me, it was wrong according to you. I figured it would be pointless to retaliate, since that would just bog things down when we're supposed to be working together. More importantly, though…"

He pushed off the counter and I reflexively brought up my hands in a fighting position; Soujiro stopped just short of me and finally looked me in the eyes, a gentle smile on his face now. It was a little happy, but was leaning more towards hopeful, even a little awkward. I came to the realization that Soujiro was showing me a true smile for the first time.

"I figured that I should apologize to you, even if I had no idea what I did wrong." He set the knife on the table (thank the lord!) and knelt down until he was eye-level with me. My defenses weakened under his cerulean stare, and I tentatively lowered my hands. "So, Yuuki-chan? Forgive and forget?"

'Forgive and forget' has never been one of those clever little sayings that I take to heart. I just never saw the wisdom in it before, never thought that I should just let things go sometimes. If I ever let things go, people like the bastards who used to torment Junsei in school would just keep on with their teasing and bullying, and it would never end for her.

But I didn't always have to bear a grudge. I hated those guys in school—I still do—but I don't hate Soujiro. I don't want to have to hate him.

Forget? Probably never. Forgive, I'll try.

"Fine. I forgive you."

His smile blossomed into a huge grin, and he stood up, retrieving the knife from the table. "Great! Let's have some brownies, then."

Pacifying a reluctant female with chocolate… he was good.

Soujiro spun around and proceeded to cut the brownies into generously sized squares, handing me one that was neatly wrapped in a napkin before snatching a brownie for himself. Once I finished mine, I began to feel the sating effects of chocolate start to work their magic on my brain. Sou had apologized for his wrong… maybe I should do something for mine.

Thing is, I suck at apologizing. Any attempt I made would look clumsy compared to Soujiro's little speech earlier. He probably orchestrated this whole scheme, with the music and everything. Clever bastard.

Well, he'd still apologized. I could suck it up and do the same.

"Um… I'm sorry, too. About your bike."

I saw Sou pause from taking a swig of his beer out of the corner of my eye; focusing on the napkin that I held in my lap, I only moved to look at him when his light laughter sounded again.

"I guess I can forgive you… _if_ you help me clean that evil concoction off of my poor motorcycle."

Ordinarily, I would have told him something along the lines of, "Hell no I ain't cleanin' off your bike! It's your damn motorcycle and it was hard enough to apologize! Do it yourself!" However, my brain had now been fully steeped in chocolate. Any rational or semi-aggressive thought was out the window and run over by cars, bikes, and some fat kid on a scooter.

"Sure, I'll help."

* * *

"Nee-san, you look so tired! Did you sleep at all last night?" 

Junsei's moonstone eyes were tinted with concern as I shuffled down the breakfast line at Haven. I made to pour some milk into my cereal bowl and would have missed if Junsei hadn't kindly redirected my hand.

Soujiro and I had stayed up for four hours trying to get the gunk off of his bike. Well, it probably would have gone faster if we (read: Soujiro) hadn't kept goofing off every couple of minutes. It was partially my fault since I went along with it, but he was always the instigator. It wasn't that I didn't have any fun; Soujiro can be a cheeky little comedian when he wants to be.

It's just that I didn't get back to bed until roughly 3:30 AM.

It's 7:30 in the morning.

I managed to look at my little sister with bleary eyes, then tugged my lips up into a half smile.

"I just had a weird dream. It kept me up most of the night. Don't worry about me, okay?"

Her delicate brow furrowed, but she gave a soft 'okay' and turned to pick a plum out of the fruit bowl. We walked to the table where our friends were seated, Junsei taking small steps with all the grace of a geisha, and me still shuffling about while hunched over like Igor. I plopped myself onto the bench-like seat and dazedly began spooning cereal into my mouth, missing several times and nearly drowning myself in the bowl when I started falling asleep.

While I was unhurriedly cleaning milk n' cereal bits off my shirt for the ninth time, some other occupants of the table noticed my zombie-fied state and started trying to figure out what was wrong with me.

"Er… Yuuki-chan, might you have had trouble sleeping?" Megumi raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow as she looked me up and down, taking in the dark circles under my eyes and my lack of hand-eye coordination.

"Yeah… you don't look so good," Kaoru supplied, her mouth shifting into a worried frown and her expressive, ever-shifting eyes going from sapphire-and-indigo to cobalt with a ring of sky blue.

"It's nothing. I just had a weird dream."

"Was it that one where you're driving a truck up to Hokkaido, when suddenly your seventh grade language arts teacher holds up the truck and won't let you go unless you define a predicate adjective?"

"Uh, that's _your_ recurring dream, Misao-chan."

"Oh."

Megumi pursed her ruby-red lips at me and narrowed her eyes, which were made up so well I swore she had pulled a professional makeup artist out of her purse. Don't ask me how the hell she can look ready for the runway at seven-thirty in the morning. It's like she's a demi-god or something.

"Something tells me you're not telling us the whole truth, Yuuki-chan."

I narrowed my own violet eyes at Megumi, angry that she had started one of our glare-offs so early in the morning. Megumi and I have a very unique relationship like that.

"Let it go, all right? It was just a stupid dream."

"Yuuki-chan!"

I froze as a light, cheerful, distinctly _male_ voice broke into our conversation. My eyes closed as I tried to block out the recognition of the voice.

_Please, please, Jesus, Buddha, Allah! I love you all! Just don't let it be **him**—_

Soujiro's cheerful face entered my field of vision as I turned, and I practically felt myself deflate. The boy looked about as tired as I was, yet he still had the same jovial bounce in his step and his voice as before. That bastard.

"Thanks for last night. I had a really good time," he said, smiling like the oblivious moron that he was as he walked away from our table, carrying a few pieces of toast. My teeth ground together as I turned back to our table.

Junsei looked slightly confused, Misao and Kaoru were laughing their asses off, and Megumi had that goddamned all-knowing vixen smile on her face.

"Just a stupid dream, huh?"

Forget? No way in hell. I think I'll have a hard time forgiving this one, too.

* * *

R and R, people! Thanks a lot for your support!


	11. Nervous Compassion

For a while there, I hit a wall in terms of writing ability. It was a stucco wall. It hurt. All I could do was watch AMV's and draw. Not fun. (Well, it _was_ fun, but not really very productive.) Going to Lollapalooza helped, but this block was largely due to the sudden monster obsession with Final Fantasy 7 that pounced upon me whilst I was watching Advent Children. I am now a CloTi uberfan.

Thankfully, though, I seem to have beaten it, though Reno of the TURKS has now joined me in the whimsical dreams that cavort through my head at night. Don't ask.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN RUROUNI KENSHIN!

And so, I give you the eleventh chapter of Five Pointed Star.

--------------------

"I presume that you are compassionate: to be without pity means to be sick in body and in spirit. But one should have spirit in abundance, so as to be permitted to be compassionate! For your pity is detrimental to you and to everyone."

-Friedrich Nietzsche

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May 23, 2007, afternoon—Junsei

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. _

The dull thuds of a knife hitting the cutting board have always been meditative to me; I've had cooking lessons since I was a little girl, so I can safely zone out without danger of cutting myself. The daikon fell to the board in even, circular pieces, then got dumped into the steaming pot of oden cooking on the stove once they were diced.

I took out a carrot next, and the _thunks_ started up again, lulling me into the world of memory.

--------------------

"_Why doesn't nee-san learn to cook, too?"_

"_She doesn't have to, Junsei-chan. Yuuki-chan is learning how to protect you. She will not need to learn how to cook."_

"_Will I learn to protect nee-san?"_

"…_No. It is more important that you learn to be a good wife, and a wife has no need for the martial arts."_

_But then… who will protect nee-san?_

--------------------

Reality whooshed at me when I felt my sister's hand on my shoulder, and I turned my gray eyes to face her. "Reminiscing?"

"Yeah…" I trailed off, and her hand slipped off of me, detecting my need to avoid the topic of our past. It's honestly not anything terribly traumatizing—no one was murdered in front of our eyes or something like that. It's just uncomfortable to bring up.

Yuuki leaned against the countertop, watching the knife as it sliced the carrot. _Thunk. Thunk. Thunk._

"Why're you cooking oden, anyway?"

"A-Ano… Kenshin-san called earlier. He said that Yukishiro-san had come down with something and was running a fever, but he wouldn't stop working and wouldn't listen to any of the others. I… guess they thought that I'd be able to help… somehow…"

I became very focused on dicing the carrot, trying to fight down one of my infernal blushes. Yuuki was grinning ear to ear, and she clapped me on the back heartily, nearly shoving me into the counter. Nee-san doesn't know her own strength sometimes.

"Oh, so you're makin' oden for Enishi-san!" Something was unnerving about the way she said Enishi's name, like she could put him through the Spanish Inquisition just for breathing my air. "Good luck with it. I'll leave you alone, then."

I sighed as my elder sister sauntered out of the kitchen, muttering 'Haruka Kanata' under her breath. Yuuki could always see right through me. I was horribly nervous about going to see Enishi again. It felt like my nerves would jump right out of my skin. Would he still be mad at me for accidentally peeking into his memories?

_Why did his sister have to die…?_

The grief that went with his memories threatened to overwhelm me as my mind dredged them up; I could too easily imagine losing Yuuki, and I felt something squeeze at my heart as I saw her in the pool of blood instead of Enishi's sister. Tears began to bead at my eyes; sometimes being empathetic is more trouble than it's worth.

I shook my head to clear the ghastly vision from my mind, turning once again to the cutting of vegetables. Trying to think of lighter topics, I debated what to add to the stew. Different people like different things—no fish stock, only a little bit of tofu, lots of eggs.

Did Enishi even like oden at _all_?

_Great. One more thing to worry about._

---------------------

As I stood once more before the imposing French doors, the thermos of oden in my hands, I wondered if it was physically possible to be any more nervous than last time. I was wishing once again for my beloved turtlenecks, and my teeth were constantly biting at my lower lip. If I weren't holding the thermos, my clothes would be tugged into oblivion by now. Which wouldn't be good, because I happened to be fond of this shirt. It was a simple white v-neck with the kanji for 'truth' written on it in silver. Simple, but nice enough to wear for a job.

After a few moments, Kenshin opened the door, smiling gently with his whole face.

Um… let me rephrase that.

You know how people can smile with their mouth, but their eyes aren't happy? The few times I'd seen Kenshin, he'd never done that. Even if his eyes weren't exactly cheerful, they were at least wishing you a pleasant day. It's one of the things that makes people like him, though Kaoru seems to value it exceptionally highly.

"Thank you for coming out on such short notice, Junsei-dono."

"Oh, i-it's no problem, Kenshin-san. I don't know how much help I'll be, though…"

"Maa, maa, I'm sure you'll be of help, de gozaru. Please come in."

I entered, taking small steps like I'd been trained to so long ago. I almost frowned; usually I don't think about my childhood much. Lately it had been resurfacing in my memory at the most unexpected of times. I had been training with my shuriken yesterday and almost let my mind be transported back to a darkened dojo, jumping at every slight sound that might be my mother or father coming down the hall, throwing stars scattered around the room.

"Junsei-dono? Are you all right?"

Kenshin's gentle voice brought me back from the world of memory this time, and I realized that I'd been led up the stairs, zombie-like, and was standing in front of Enishi's room. I had to double-check to make sure it really was his room; his once-powerful turquoise energy had faded and dulled into a little waif of an aura.

_He must really be sick…_

"I-I'm fine, Kenshin-san."

He held my gaze for a few seconds, looking like a concerned older brother for all he was worth. I shakily smiled at him, and he turned to the door, seeming satisfied with my condition. I got the impression that Kenshin was used to being concerned for others, like responsibility had been programmed into his brain over the years.

The redhead gently knocked on the door, a light rap of his knuckles.

"Enishi-dono? You have someone here to see you, de gozaru."

A short grunt came from the other side of the door, at least signifying that Enishi was still alive. He didn't sound terribly happy, but Kenshin turned his head to me again and smiled, squeezing his eyes shut.

"That means you can go in, de gozaru. Ganbatte, Junsei-dono."

Kenshin lingered in the hall out of concern as I entered Enishi's room—I don't know if he thought the white-haired man would try to bite off my head or something, but it was still a nice gesture. Kaoru had good taste in men.

Shutting the door with my foot behind me, I noticed three main things. The first was that Enishi's room was surprisingly neat and orderly, papers stacked cleanly on a mahogany desk in the far right corner of the room and his bed sheets tucked in meticulously. The second was that his furniture was carefully arranged according to the rules of feng shui; he could easily see the door from either his desk or his bed on the left-hand side of the room, and a strategically placed octagonal mirror hung on the wall.

The third was that the room sported a serious lack of Enishi.

I blinked, still holding the oden, and swept my eyes around the room once more. The second look made me notice a bathroom branching off the right side of the room; the door was cracked open, revealing a glimpse of white tiles and turquoise-blue pajama pants.

A horrid retching sound came from the bathroom, and I quickly set the thermos on the desk and opened the door to the bathroom in one fluid motion. I cringed in sympathy at what I saw; poor Enishi was hunched over the toilet, his bare, muscled arms gripping the porcelain as he dry-heaved.

_Wait, wait—**bare**?_

…

_EEP! Do not faint, do not faint! There's a sick man on the premises!_

Once I had fought down the inevitable blush, I tried to prevent myself from instinctually rushing to Enishi's side, figuring he'd be less than grateful if I just started patting him on the back. Instead, I grabbed onto the pedestal sink and purposefully avoided staring at the shirtless man before me. He looked up after a few seconds, eyes widening fractionally behind his ever-present sunglasses.

"Junsei-san? What're you doing here?"

I stammered, caught between focusing on his face or letting my gaze wander over rippling muscles. "W-Well, I-I brought you some oden… th-that is, K-Kenshin-san called and told me you were sick, s-so…"

"I'm not sick."

Enishi brushed past me so fast I thought I saw a dust cloud form in his wake, leaving me blinking in his bathroom. He wasn't sick? Wasn't he lurching up bile five seconds ago?

"Y-Yukishiro-san, I don't think—"

"Youkai don't get sick. End of story."

His tone left no room for any other conversation, biting off the words sharply; he sat on his bed and began furiously typing away at his sleek black laptop, which I had skimmed over when I first entered the room. I blinked at him, feeling quite obsolete before the work-driven architect before me. What are you _supposed_ to say after a forceful statement like that?

_How about, "You fuckin' asshole! I'm tryin' ta **help** ya here!"_

My sister's imagined 'words of advice' echoed through my head, making me wince at the profanity. She usually watches her language around me, but no one can stop her when she's mad. Maybe me. Maybe that Soujiro guy. But no one else.

I returned my mind to the situation at hand; Enishi was still calculating away at his computer, muttering mathematical figures under his breath and pausing every few seconds to brush his fingers against the touchpad.

"Goddamn touchpad…" He growled curses at the innocent black square, which apparently wasn't cooperating with him. Enishi looked up at me, standing in the doorway to his bathroom, with an irritated glare fueled by frustration with his computer and his illness.

"Why are you still here?" He snapped, and I drew back slightly, bringing my arms close in front of me out of instinct. I wish I didn't do that; it makes me feel so timid and skittish.

"I… I'm sorry, Yukishiro-san… I was just…"

Enishi cut me off, his words burning with derision, searing my already fragile self-esteem. "Just what? Bored? Filled with pity? Thought that I couldn't take care of myself?"

"I was _worried_ about you!"

I never shout. I mean never. It's not in my nature to holler like Yuuki or reprimand like Megumi or cheer like Misao or laugh out loud like Kaoru. I just don't raise my voice at anyone.

Except Yukishiro Enishi.

I was sure that you could have fried an egg on my face, I was blushing so hard; I turned my head to the side, not having the courage to look at the now-silent Enishi. Why, why couldn't I look at him? I had just told the truth, I shouldn't be afraid…

"I'm… I'm sorry for bothering you, Yukishiro-san. Have some of the oden if you feel like it."

I started for the door, thankfully overthrowing my training and taking long strides, reaching for the doorknob prematurely in my haste to escape Enishi's lair. My hand had just alighted on the circular silver handle when I heard a slurping sound from behind me.

Pausing, still positioned in front of the door, I rotated my head to look over my shoulder, where I spotted a scene that was a contender for the Top Ten Most Unlikely Occurrences Ever to Take Place.

For there stood Yukishiro Enishi, confident, intelligent, arrogant, and shirtless, drinking down my oden in an undeniably delicate and refined manner.

"Hm. Not bad."

His turquoise eyes flicked over to mine before returning to the thermos, tilting it gently so as not to spill it all over himself. My lips tugged upwards into a tiny smile, and I hid the smallest giggle behind my hand. For all his immaculate acting, Enishi wasn't nearly as jerky as he pretended to be.

"A-Arigatou, Yukishiro-san."

Still smiling gently, I faced the door again and turned the handle; I think it was somewhere between telling my arms to open the door and telling my legs to get out of the way that I realized that two people were leaning against the wood.

I barely had time to pivot to the side before a tall, lean bird-head toppled through the doorway, followed by a skinny, blue-eyed boy, who promptly fell on top of the larger man. A small cloud of dust and a flurry of curses marked their arrival, most of them coming from Sanosuke; both of them stood, trying to make it seem as though they had planned to come crashing into their friend's room and that they had not been participating in an incriminating bout of eavesdropping.

"Hey… Enishi…" Sanosuke trailed off at the look on Enishi's face, which wasn't so much screaming death threats as it was making low, sincere _promises_ of death. It was really quite scary.

I took a step back from the trio as Enishi slammed the thermos of oden onto his desk in the most controlled way possible, and I saw Soujiro shuffle behind Sano, though not entirely out of fright—his smile was quivering with barely restrained mischievous laughter, something he probably didn't want Enishi to see.

"Tori-atama…" He began, syllables coming out sharp and guttural, though he did not deign to raise his voice. "You and Speedy Gonzales over there have ten seconds to get as far away from me as possible… Understood?"

Silence fell for three of those ten seconds, which was broken by a burst of cheerful laughter from Soujiro.

"Well then… Alley oop!"

And he was off, disappearing from the room in a nanosecond; I caught a glimpse through the door of him sliding down the banister like a little child. A cry of, 'Whee!' only confirmed that impression, and it was rammed home when I heard Kenshin telling him to stop doing that because he would wear out the finish and could hurt himself.

By then, three more seconds had passed, Sanosuke had broken into a light sweat and was slowly backing towards the door, and Enishi still had the most professional death-glare I'd ever seen on a person. Once Sano reached the doorway, he too zipped off for the safety of his own room, leaving Enishi and I alone once more.

But not for long.

"Excuse me for a moment, Junsei-san…"

I could only watch, tugging nervously on my black shorts as Enishi got down on all fours and pulled a long, polished wooden box out from underneath his bed. I didn't like the sense of foreboding I got when I looked at that box; my face actually paled for once as he extracted the most wicked-looking watou I'd ever seen from the box and gripped it firmly in his right hand, the serious death-glare having been replaced with a maniacal grin.

"Oh, _Sanosuke_…"

I watched this incredulous scene with increasing wariness as Enishi strode past me, a purposeful spring in his step. Once he was out the door, a tanned hand rested on my shoulder, and Kenshin's calming aura washed over me, though not entirely extinguishing my anxiety.

"He's… He's not going to _hurt_ Sano-san, is he?"

"Enishi-dono? Iie, iie. Sanosuke can defend himself well enough, and Enishi-dono knows that Sano didn't mean any harm… at least, I think he does…"

The door between Enishi's room and Sanosuke's room swung open as the white-haired man passed it, and Aoshi's head stuck out. His ice-eyes swept the whole scene, judging it correctly in a couple calculating glances; with a few disapproving shakes of his head, the hanyou withdrew back into his room.

Kenshin began guiding me down the stairs again, noting how my head was beginning to spin from the strange dynamics they shared. I don't know what I was supposed to expect, but it was _nothing_ like the way our quintet of priestesses lived… I knew that men and women were different, but… not _this_ different…

The redhead thanked me once more as we reached the door, and Soujiro popped up behind him, still grinning, just as Kenshin was ushering me onto the front porch.

"Tell your sister I said hello, okay, Junsei-chan?"

"H-Hai…" I said weakly, hearing a cry of what would have become 'What the fuck' echo from Sanosuke's room before Kenshin shut the door, no doubt rushing off to stop the simultaneous homicide in the making.

I blinked at the door, then turned on my heel and put my hand to my forehead, sighing. My nervous system was going to kill me one of these days.

As I started off down the path, I flicked out my white cell phone (complete with a porcelain, chibi Meryl Strife dangling from the strap) and called a cab, giving them the address easily. I figured it would only be about twenty minutes, since Enishi's house is mere miles from Tokyo.

It's funny; things like ordering food or giving directions I have no problem with. I only really get nervous when I feel that someone could be judging me based on what I say, or how I say it…

--------------------

"_Junsei-chan, the art of conversation is very important. Every word you speak says something about you, so you mustn't appear nervous!"_

--------------------

For the third time that day, some outside stimulus had to drag me from my memory world; this time is was my ringtone, the cheerful notes serving to bring me out of my funk a little bit. I snapped it open once more, batting away the porcelain figure that nearly whacked me upside the face.

"Hai, moshi moshi?"

My sister's voice greeted me, though it was lacking the casual drawl that she so often used; it had been replaced with a tone of leaden seriousness, and I felt my chest tighten instinctively before she said a word.

"Junsei, get to the apartment as soon as possible. Hiko-san's got a mission for us. He says it's urgent."

"Hai. I'll be there soon, nee-san," I said, nodding curtly. Things were rarely urgent for the all-powerful Hiko Seijuurou. That could only mean that either something had gone astonishingly right or horribly wrong.

Meryl almost hit me again as I whipped my cell back into my pocket, jogging the rest of the path to wait by the main gates. As I slid into the backseat of the cab twenty minutes later, I opted to tell the driver that I was in a hurry, could he please drive faster than before, I would be willing to pay him some extra yen for his trouble.

"What's the rush? It's not the end of the world…" He grumbled as he threw the shift into third.

I decided not to tell him that with my line of work, it very well could be.

--------------------

Thanks for reading! Remember, feel free to ask me about anything if it confuses you.

And yes, reviewers--you may have your pocky.


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